The Call
by writergirl712
Summary: Movie novelization/AU: When Prince Caspian calls forth the Pevensies, a supervigilante is also summoned from modern-day Earth. Despite her cynicism and self-preservation, the ex-thief must get home by allying with the Narnians, facing a forgotten legend, defeating the Telmarines...and staying alive. In Narnia, the heroes don't just fight the enemy - they battle their own demons.
1. The Call

**Author's Note:** This story acts as a novelization and deeper exploration of the movie "Prince Caspian", an AU in which an extra character is inserted into the plot and influences the events, and a kind of sequel to my previous story called "A Good Thief". Readers don't have to read "A Good Thief" (it's quite long, but if you do, kudos to you!).

**This is what you have to know:** Tempestra is the vigilante persona of Julia Keating, an adopted girl who had intense tensions with the parents that raised her. When she was a preteen, she left home to live with her older brother Roger and his friend Damien, both of whom trained her to become a thief like Damien. Through a series of unfortunate events, Julia ran into trouble with a local superhero team and a criminal group called the Elite, and Roger was killed in the process. Ultimately, Julia caused the death of two criminals: Aphrodite and Frostbite. She dabbled in thievery, superheroics, and eventually settled on being a vigilante and following her own agenda and rules. At the beginning of this story, she works on her own and keeps periodic contact with her close friend, Damien.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia book and/or movie series, nor anything related to them.

* * *

**Jump City**

**City skyline**

It had taken weeks – _weeks_ – for Tempestra to track down the illusive assassin Cheshire, and now she found herself with the thankless task of chasing the criminal down. Cheshire was renowned for her deadly combat skills and twin-bladed claws worn on each hand, an accomplished murderer-for-hire who made a mockery of the law - all the while flashing a sharp-toothed grin painted on an eerie white mask. Tempestra had followed a string of high-profile murders of corrupt mob bosses across the West Coast, but it was only after the seventh killing did she finally catch up to her.

The two raced across the rooftops of Jump City, flitting in and out of the darkness like shadows. Tempestra was no stranger to the chase - having been in the role of the chased on more than one occasion – but she did not like it. Give her a face-to-face fight any day. Her petite build was not made for running long distances; then again, some would say that her vigilante clothes weren't meant for fighting crime, but she proved them wrong. Who said skirts, leggings, boots, and v-neck shirts weren't suitable for a fight? It was the skills that mattered, and with her combat abilities and knack for shooting lightning, Tempestra was well-equipped.

They made an odd pair, the two of them. Cheshire no doubt considered Tempestra her nemesis, and it wasn't just their evenly-matched skills that proved it. They both happened to be young women on the cusp of leaving their teen years, making them carefree, defiant, and cynical. They shared a common background: Asian-Americans who refused to be categorized in solely one identity, and chose their own courses instead.

Tempestra, at least, had not decided to kill for a living. As she continued her long chase against the background of a darkening summer night that promised to be as warm as it was humid, the vigilante tried not to think about how quickly Cheshire would break out of jail after her arrest. She also tried to ignore the twisting feeling of guilt as she passed a mugging and a minor gang fight.

_Seven murders_, the young woman told herself firmly. _Seven murders. _It was the only ones with which she had evidence to pin on Cheshire. Even if the victims were as corrupt and cold-blooded as Cheshire, three of them had children who had been put in harm's way when Cheshire murdered their fathers in their own homes. Tempestra did not miss the mob bosses – indeed, she thought they were better dead than alive - but she had wanted to bring them down in her own way, in her own time. She wanted the satisfaction of seeing them carted off to jail for life sentences. They had no hope for rehabilitation, and they were better off in jail than in society.

It was ironic that she was trying to catch a killer for killing other killers. Even worse – Tempestra was, by law, not allowed to wreak the same revenge on Cheshire. One kill – even by accident, no matter what the circumstances – was a guarantee for Tempestra herself to be hunted down by the police. When the vigilante did face Cheshire one-on-one, they would not be fighting with equal ferocity. She could only take comfort in the fact that there was no way that the courts would give anything less than a life sentence to Cheshire when she was caught. The assassin's criminal record was longer than most serial murderers.

Cheshire flung herself off a rooftop without hesitation, and Tempestra quickly followed. She landed solidly in the middle of a pitch-black alleyway, and was forced to unsheathe her two long knives as her quarry turned and leapt at her. Cheshire slashed at Tempestra with her metal claws, nearly missing the top of her victim's head as she ducked under the singing blades. Springing up again, Tempestra locked her knives with Cheshire's claws and shoved a boot into her adversary's torso, throwing the assassin back against the opposite brick wall.

Mask leering, Cheshire flung two short knives and a smoke pellet at the vigilante, then bolted out of the alleyway. By the time Tempestra, coughing, had narrowly dodged the weapons and sprinted to the end of the alleyway, her target had gotten a head start.

"Damn…"

Tempestra had hoped to finally corner Cheshire, but the way that the evening was going, she was fast losing hope. She had pursued the assassin for over twenty minutes, and Cheshire outmaneuvered her at every turn. Even her lightning abilities were useless, since her opponent always managed to evade each bolt with maddening ease, and she didn't dare use too much power for fear that she could accidentally kill her. It was entirely possible that one blast of lightning could knock the assassin off a roof and to her death, or against some hard concrete and crack her skull.

The girl paused, panting, to scan her surroundings.

There.

Seeing the familiar flicker of pale green cloth, Tempestra veered right and ran across the empty, ill-lit street towards anther alleyway. A lamppost flickered feebly as she ran underneath it. As she neared the entrance to the alley, Tempestra thought she distantly heard the sound of a trumpet.

Ignoring it, the young woman darted into the alleyway, though she could not shake off the increasing feeling that something was propelling her forward. As she ran on, so far in that no light could penetrate the darkness, the feeling intensified into a pull. It was like something invisible had hooked her in against her will and was tugging her onwards.

Soon, that something was pulling her in and Tempestra was no longer running

but when she tried resisting and moving backwards that thing

dragged her in and she couldn't see what it was

but she realized with horror

that she couldn't

escape-

And then there was light ahead of her.

The tugging feeling disappeared, and Tempestra slowed down to a jog, then a walk, and began moving forward cautiously. The air in the alleyway had gone from the enveloping warmth of a summer night to the crispness of a spring morning. The muted sounds of a sleeping city had been replaced by the sounds of a quiet forest. The young woman could even hear birds chirping among the rustling leaves.

There had to be an illusionist nearby, or a psychic. It was possible that Cheshire was working with other people. She had, after all, teamed up with other criminals on more than one occasion. If she had an illusionist on her side, things were going to go from bad to worse for Tempestra. Physical combat was her advantage, not mental combat.

Tempestra crept forwarded. The sunny light revealed that on either side of her were not the crumbling brick walls of the alleyway, but rough stone walls of some kind of cave. She touched the nearest one, and was surprised to discover that it felt convincingly like coarse rock. What's more, even the scents of the forest were realistic: faintly sweet flowers, earthy loam, fresh air, green leaves and grass. Tempestra inhaled a lungful and exhaled it silently, frowning. Touch and smell was not usually what illusionists and psychics were able to imitate.

Voices.

"I'm telling you, _somebody_ used Queen Susan's horn! Did you not feel it in your bones? It was that trembling call that every Narnian knows!"

"I felt it as well. Yet who could have blown it? The horn has been missing ever since the day the kings and queens of old disappeared."

"Maybe a Narnian found it. Maybe a Telmarine raided a treasure trove. Maybe-"

"Ugh, shut up."

"Peace, both of you. If someone has indeed blown the horn, then the kings and queens will return. If that is to happen, we must gather our fellow Narnians and be ready to greet them."

The words slid over Tempestra, who understood none of it. The mention of a horn reminded her of the trumpet-like sound she had briefly heard in front of the alleyway, but the other words were meaningless to her. Whoever was manipulating her mind must have created imaginary voices, because who in reality would talk about magic horns and kings and queens?

She had reached the entrance to the cave. Steeling herself, the vigilante peered around the side to dart a quick glance at her surroundings. What she saw made her breath catch. Some ten feet to her left were three…creatures. One was a dark-skinned, wild-looking man from the waist up and horse from the waist down – a centaur, according to Greek mythology. One was a short man with a bare chest and hairy goat legs – a faun. The last was a squirrel. None wore any clothes, though the centaur and faun were both armed with medieval-looking swords.

All three had spoken, _including the squirrel_.

Retreating a few feet back into the relative shelter of the cave, Tempestra leaned against the wall and took several deep breaths to steady her leaping heart. It was increasingly becoming obvious that her mind was not being manipulated. Even if she was unconscious and hallucinating, a mind alone could not imitate sound, smell, and touch so accurately.

What if this wasn't the product of an illusionist? What is Tempestra wasn't in that alleyway, or even Jump City, anymore?

"Wait wait wait. I smell something." It was the high-pitched, nervous voice that obviously came from smaller lungs: the squirrel.

"What is it?" The hushed voice was deep and resonating, from the centaur.

"Human. Close by."

"Telmarine?" That was the last voice, from the faun.

"No no no, human but not Telmarine."

"Where?"

"That way."

There was the muffled sound of plodding hooves on grass, and Tempestra pressed herself closer against the wall, holding her breath. They were coming closer, those three creatures – and from the sound of it, they did not seem to hold humans in the highest esteem. In fact, they sounded fairly hostile towards humans.

_Ah, shit_. She was definitely going to have to fight them. The vigilante gripped the hilts of her knives and summoned her inner powers, causing lightning to bloom over her hands and writhe over her metal weapons. If those creatures were about to attack her, they would get more than they bargained for.

The faun was the first to dart inside the cave, but he wasn't used to the darkness.

Tempestra was. As the creature, squinting, chopped down with its sword, the young woman trapped the weapon between her crossed knives and used her boot to shove him backwards against the wall, where he hit his head against the stone.

The centaur was on her in a heartbeat. He swung his broadsword in an arc – Tempestra felt a stab of fear - but the vigilante leapt backwards and used one knife to parry the large weapon away from her. The other she pointed at her opponent. A thick bolt of electricity jumped from the tip of the knife and onto the centaur's torso, eliciting a bellow of pain and surprise from him. When the creature stumbled back a few steps, Tempestra turned to lock weapons once more with the faun, eyes glittering and small bolts of lightning flying from the clashing blades.

This time, the faun drew her out into the light by slashing and retreating. Tempestra was busy fighting, but a corner of her mind noticed that she was surrounded by gigantic trees in a forest, with dappled sunlight falling onto springy green grass. When her opponent sliced at her in a crescent motion, the young woman moved to parry the attack. The faun feinted, then knocked one of her knives away and caught her in the ribs with one unexpectedly powerful and solid hoof, throwing her to the ground and knocking the wind out of her. Before she could get to her feet, the faun lifted its sword and Tempestra breathlessly raised her own knife to protect herself, knowing that it would be useless-

"Stop."

The faun froze at the centaur's command. He and Tempestra turned to look at the tall creature, who was walking over. Surprisingly, his sword hung limp by his side. The squirrel, too, approached, nervously darting forward, hesitating, then scurrying forward again.

"Glenstorm-"

The faun's protest was silenced as the centaur – Glenstorm - raised its hand. The creature was surveying Tempestra solemnly. He had a strong face, with a broad mouth, deep-set eyes, and a large nose. He looked proud and noble. Judging that she was no longer in a fatal situation, Tempestra got to her feet, holding her knives at the ready.

"Daughter of Eve, by what name are you hailed?"

Bewildered by the sudden change in attitude, Tempestra leveled a cool look up at the centaur, who was at least two feet taller than she.

"I'm Tempestra," she replied cautiously. "What does Eve have to do with-"

The centaur shook his head.

"You misunderstand. I call you a human – sons of Adam and daughters of Eve." When Tempestra just stared at him, he continued, "Forgive us. We were taken off guard by your appearance. We have not seen humans-" there was a definite note of disgust in his voice "-for some time. Especially not a daughter of Eve – a woman."

They did not seem to still be in the mood to attack her, so Tempestra relaxed slightly. She was starting to overcome the fact that there was a talking centaur, faun, and squirrel, and that she was somehow in a completely different place than she had started in. As long as they didn't seem eager to hurt her, however, it seemed reasonable to show some courtesy and friendliness to get on their good sides.

"I'm…lost," she said finally. "I was cashing someone into an alley, but I came out here." She indicated the cave behind her. "Where is here?"

The faun lowered his sword slowly.

"Narnia," he replied curtly, then looked at the centaur Glenstorm. "Why are we letting her live? If she's a Telmarine-"

"She isn't a Telmarine." The squirrel spoke up in front of her for the first time. He sniffed the air, then nodded decisively. "Not a Telmarine smell. Different, like something sweet. A flower?"

"Look." The three creatures looked at Tempestra. "I don't even know what a Telmarine is, or Narnia, or how the hell I'm talking to two mythological creatures and a talking _squirrel_."

"You are not of this place," Glenstorm noted.

"Of course not!" the faun exclaimed. He shot a look of exasperation at the centaur. "She isn't Narnian, she's human! What if she's a spy?"

"I do not believe so." The centaur was looking almost gravely – almost reverently – at Tempestra again, which was starting to make her uneasy. He looked like he knew something that she didn't. "Do you not recognize her, faun?"

The faun looked cluelessly at the young woman for a moment, then shook his head. The centaur sheathed his sword, then bowed his head.

"She is the Lady Lightning of old."

* * *

**Author's Note: **If you've read this story before October 2013, you might notice that this chapter is different. Starting in October, I'm going through the first chapters and rewriting them to make them more appealing to new readers and easier to get into. I'm also improving the writing style and content, since I started writing this over three years ago and my writing has changed quite a bit since then.


	2. Lady Lightning

**A/N: **This fanfiction is almost entirely based off of the movie version of Prince Caspian. Many of the scenes from the movie are included here but with added parts to include Tempestra as well. A few scenes are completely made up by me, and some act as bridges between scenes in the movie.

This is another chapter that I rewrote. It's very similar to the original, but with more depth (and better writing) than before.

* * *

_What the hell was a Lady Lightning?_

"I think you've got the wrong person," Tempestra said dryly. "I can use lightning, and I'm a lady, but that's where the comparison ends. I've never been called Lady Lightning."

"But you are." Glenstorm nodded confidently, and Tempestra felt her sense of unease rising. "I recognize your renowned weapons and gift of light. You have the same appearance of the legendary lady warrior from over a thousand years past: the raven hair, the garments of another world…"

Tempestra felt like laughing, but she was too shaken to. This centaur – a creature that by all rights should not have existed – was trying to tell her that she was some kind of legend from an ancient time, in a place that she still knew nothing about.

"Just – stop." She held up her hands – still grasping her weapons - to hold off their claims. "I'm not who you think I am. I don't even know _where_ I am." This was too much. First, she came through an alleyway and found herself transported to a completely different location, then she discovered that she was surrounded by fantasy creatures, then she was told that she had been here before…it was all too Alice in Wonderland. This was not real life. Real life made sense; this did not.

"The legends _did_ say that she was from another world," the faun murmured thoughtfully, stroking his short beard. Tempestra tried to avoid looking at the place where his human and animal parts met. "But how did she-?"

"The horn!" the squirrel exclaimed excitedly, standing up on its two legs. "Queen Susan's horn summoned her!"

"Who?"

For the first time, Glenstorm frowned.

"Do you not recall Queen Susan or her legendary horn?"

Tempestra looked at him, deadpan.

"Like I said, I don't know what you're talking about or why I'm here. I was just chasing someone, and came out here instead." She gestured, frustrated, back at the cave. The three creatures glanced at each other dubiously.

"That's just a normal cave," the faun shrugged. "We've been in it before. There's nothing in there but the back of the cave."

Unconvinced, Tempestra strode back into the cave and gave it a thorough inspection as the three creatures conversed with each other earnestly. As the faun had said, there was nothing special about the cave. There were no hidden doors, or evidence of magic or a portal. Yet it had to be some kind of portal that had brought her there. They were not unheard of; there was more than one person on Earth who had the power to travel from world to world.

And this was certainly not her world. This place, Narnia, could not exist on Earth. And judging from the weapons that these creatures used, it could not exist in the same time. Their weapons looked medieval, and they had no other evidence of modern developments. If this was the case, then she was in more trouble than she had previously thought. Cheshire must have worked with someone to lure her into a trap and strand her here. _Wherever here is_._ Whenever here is._

The centaur was talking to her again.

"Queen Susan was one of the kings and queens of old," he explained to her. "High King Peter the Magnificent, Queen Susan the Gentle, King Edmund the Just, and Queen Lucy the Valiant." _Sounds like a fun group_, Tempestra thought sarcastically, half listening to the lecture. "After battling the White Witch after the Hundred Years of Winter, the kings and queens ruled Narnia during the Golden Age."

"Before they disappeared one day," the faun added bitterly. "Them _and_ Aslan."

"Aslan is the Great Lion who saved us all," Glenstorm continued, unheeded. "He was there when the deep magicks of Narnia were written, and he has powers unimaginable to us."

Tempestra gave up inspecting the cave. Clearly, there was nothing there that could help her go back to Earth. She walked back outside, mentally going over her options, when the centaur's words caught up to her.

"Magic?" she repeated. She turned to the centaur. "If he's magic, can he bring me back home?"

The centaur, faun, and squirrel looked at each other.

"He is capable of many great things," Glenstorm finally replied.

"Weren't you listening?" the faun demanded, throwing up his hands. _No_, Tempestra thought, but didn't say it aloud. "Aslan deserted us when the kings and queens did! He hasn't come back! He didn't even come back when the Telmarines invaded and killed us, took over our land, destroyed our homes-"

"Peace, Flynn," Glenstorm interrupted. "Queen Susan's horn has finally sounded." To Tempestra, he said, "It is said to be able to summon the kings and queens. They are coming."

"They can help us," the squirrel added, "against the Telmarines."

Tempestra's mind worked quickly. If this was all real and not a hallucination – and it seemed too real to be a hallucination – then she had to find a way to get home. There were few people on Earth who was able to find her, and they had no way of knowing that she was in trouble or where she was. Even if they did notice that she had disappeared, it would not be for weeks or even months. She was on her own. _As usual_.

"If I help all of you Narnians to find the kings and queens," the young woman said carefully, "will Aslan return and help me get back home?"

Glenstorm scrutinized her for a moment. Tempestra, who normally was adept at reading people's emotions, could not fathom the thoughts behind his dark eyes. For all that he spoke of old legendary kings and queens, there was something just as ancient about the centaur. He spoke with the authority of a leader and the wisdom of a sage, as if he knew the past, present, and future. His nobility and honor was an outdated concept on Earth, but here in this impossible world, Tempestra could see that it made him a natural leader. The faun and the centaur clearly looked up to him.

"It is possible," Glenstorm replied at last. At this, the young woman nodded grimly and sheathed her weapons. After a moment, something occurred to her.

"If these rulers are ancient legends, how old would they be now, exactly?"

* * *

Within the hour, the motley group of four had journeyed to meet other so-called "Narnians", which included a herd of centaurs and a group of fauns. Tempestra struggled not to show her surprise at the strange group, and her confusion at the reverence with which the Narnians looked at her. They _all_ thought she was this person called Lady Lightning, and from the way that they spoke to her, it was clear that they respected the legendary figure. They even took to calling her 'my lady'. They were disappointed that she vehemently denied that she was the ancient figure, but they did not attempt to persuade her. It all seemed surreal to the young woman, who pursed her lips, listened, and nodded to them, but said little. She prided herself on being adaptable, but this – this was something else entirely. She was out of her element. The most advanced technology that they had here was the wheel. Her lightning abilities, her ethnicity and gender, her clothes, her cynicism and sarcasm – they did not belong in this world of kings and queens, kingdoms, honor, nobility, swords, and battles.

The less time that she was here, the better.

The large group soon left the temporary camp in order to search for more Narnians and the kings and queens of old. Apparently, Telmarine attacks from over a thousand years ago had forced the Narnians to go into hiding. They lived sparsely over the land, in small groups that were only now rising in population. But animals which could once speak could not be taught again to speak, and according to their stories, the trees used to come alive. They were motionless and dead now.

The journeys across the land were long and boring, and some of the Narnians, including Glenstorm and Flynn the faun, took it upon themselves to relate Narnian history to Tempestra. They spoke nostalgically of the Golden Age, in which the kings and queens had reigned for fifteen years of peace and prosperity. To Tempestra, it seemed like a fairy tale or a dream. Their stories soon became bitter, however, as they recounted the years after the Golden Age, when the Telmarines had invaded Narnia, taken over the land, and committed mass genocide. Clearly, even a medieval fantasy land was not without its dark ages.

Taking queue from Glenstorm, who seemed to be the leader, the Narnians did not speak much of the Lady Lightning. Only when Tempestra asked him directly did the centaur relate to her the background of the legend.

"She was a warrior as skilled as the kings and queens," he told her simply. "As their Majesties were, she was a woman from another world. But she appeared in Narnia after the Battle of Beruna against the White Witch in the year 1000."

The White Witch, some of the Narnians had explained vehemently, had been a cruel tyrant. She had ruled Narnia for over a hundred years in a state of total winter before the kings and queens of old had come and defeated her with Aslan's help. "The Lady Lightning," Glenstorm went on, "had come to warn the kings and queens of a rebellion by the remnants of the forces of the White Witch. She and the High King led a great battle against the rebellion, then went on to destroy the castle of the Witch and all those left of the army, five years later. Those who did not perish, dissolved their forces and ended the war.

"During these years, the Lady Lightning became a loyal companion and advisor to the High King. Our records do not show how close they became, only that she stood by the side of the High King for many a time before he, and the other king and queens, disappeared."

"It makes sense that she would be an advisor," Tempestra mused. "Advisors are usually close to rulers." That, at least, sounded a little more like her. She wasn't cut out to be a queen, but a shadowy advisor with a heavy influence over rulers? That was more her style. _But that wasn't me_, the young woman reminded herself. _They've got the wrong person_.

"Perhaps," Glenstorm replied, but before Tempestra could ask what he meant by his vague 'perhaps', the centaur had turned away and preoccupied himself with something else.

* * *

Days passed, then a week since Tempestra had arrived in Narnia, and she began to finally accept that she would have to remain there in the long term. Their group of Narnians grew and came to include dwarves (black and white), minotaurs, cheetahs, tigers, and other talking animals. As their numbers swelled, Tempestra found that their reactions towards her varied considerably. Despite the warm welcome that she had encountered in the beginning, there were Narnians who were suspicious or wary of her. Almost none of them had ever seen a human, and those who had seen humans had only encountered Telmarine soldiers, who left an unpleasant impression upon them. Tempestra did not attempt to gain their trust or support; after all, she did not expect to remain there for very long.

The young woman did, however, receive a set of human clothes from a centaur; he had come across an abandoned hut on the edge of the Great Woods, which the Telmarines believed to be haunted. Most of the belongings in the hut – which looked like it had been hastily abandoned – were gone, but some things had been left behind, including a set of male Telmarine clothes. There was a loose white cotton shirt and a pair of faded brown breeches, which Tempestra opted to wear since they were more suitable to forests than her own outfit. However, she had to use her signature belt (black leather with a silver buckle and violet lightning bolt engraving) to keep the large pants up around her waist. She kept her own boots and weapons, and took to braiding her hair back.

* * *

Glenstorm, Flynn the faun, and a cheetah named Ferrah were the only Narnians that Tempestra communicated with on a daily basis. Ferrah was the group's most dependable scout, and a valuable asset as the group became larger and traveled more slowly. After Glenstorm had discovered that Tempestra and the cheetah worked well with each other, he sent them out on scouting missions together. Ferrah had keen animal senses and stealth, and Tempestra had raw power and a sharper mind for making quick tactical decisions. After she proved her cleverness and combat skills, the cheetah came to trust her. They never met any obstacles, except on one occasion.

It was a regular scouting mission. Glenstorm knew of a small group of Narnians – two dwarves and a badger – who lived nearby, and he asked Ferrah and Tempestra to search for them and invite them to join the group. It was midday and already warm, though the forest was strangely silent. The dense tree foliage allowed scant light through the forest floor, which gave off a damp odor. They were picking their way among thick tree roots, looking for a hidden hut, when Ferrah suddenly froze, sniffing the air. Seeing this, Tempestra halted as well, turning her head to survey their surroundings for anything suspicious.

"What is it?" she whispered, slowly unsheathing her knives.

Ferrah looked from side to side.

"It's-"

Before he could finish, there was a tight whistle, and an arrow embedded itself into the ground next to the cheetah. Ferrah and Tempestra looked up to see seven dark-haired men dressed in helmets and chain mail, all armed with crossbows and swords. They were twenty feet away.

"Telmarines," Ferrah explained. With a guttural growl, he bounded forward and launched himself at the nearest soldier, who gave a cry and fell backwards, shooting his crossbow wildly into the air. In a second, Ferrah had slashed the man's throat, dodged another arrow, and leapt at another soldier.

Meanwhile, Tempestra faced the other five soldiers. They glanced at each other, hesitant and unsure how to react to a young woman ready for combat. Tempestra solved their indecision by preemptively hurling one of her knives at the closest soldier, who fell backwards with a cry, the weapon protruding from his shoulder. The others quickly got over their uncertainty. One of them raised his crossbow, aimed it at the young woman, and fired off an arrow. Tempestra shot a bolt of lightning from the tip of her other knife, destroying the arrow in a clash of sparks, splintered wood, and slivers of metal. No sooner had the pieces fallen to the ground did she shoot another bolt at the offending soldier, and the man fell backwards, unconscious.

This was not what the Telmarines were prepared for. Shaken but determined, the last three ran forward, swords raised. The closest one chopped down at Tempestra, who dodged the attack. His momentum caused his sword to thud into the ground, and the young woman knocked him unconscious with a blow from the hard end of her dagger to his head. The next soldier swung wildly at her, and she parried the blow with one knife, before stabbing her opponent through a gap in the chain mail on his shoulder. When the soldier fell to his knees, howling in pain, Tempestra blasted him backwards with a bolt of lightning. The last soldier wavered, lost his nerve, then turned and ran.

He didn't make it far.

In a moment Ferrah brought him down. When the cheetah was finished, he turned to look at Tempestra, who had retrieved her first knife and was wiping her weapons clean on the grass.

"Why did you not kill the other two?" The cheetah was curious, almost surprised.

The vigilante shrugged.

"I don't kill," she remarked casually, looking around at the unconscious soldiers. They looked Mediterranean, with swarthy skin and dark hair.

Ferrah shook his head in a human-like way.

"In these times, you must," he advised, then added, "Those two will report back to Miraz."

Tempestra sheathed her knives and began to gather up the unconscious Telmarines' own weapons.

"Then let them," she replied firmly. "They were obviously here because of Glenstorm's friends." She indicated a nearby tree. Beneath the broad network of roots was a small half-opened door, which revealed an empty home. "I don't know if they were captured or if they ran, but the Telmarines knew about them and were suspicious enough to check if there were more Narnians around here."

Ferrah sniffed around the entrance to the hut, then looked back at the young woman.

"There's barely a scent," he remarked reluctantly. "The wolves will track it more easily. Either they didn't want to be found, or-"

"-or they were taken against their will and weren't traveling on foot as they would have voluntarily," Tempestra finished. "Either way, Glenstorm should know. And-" she indicated the swords, crossbows, and arrows she'd collected "-all of you could do with some extra weapons."

* * *

**A/N:** This explains how Glenstorm and the large group of Narnians found Caspian, Trufflehunter, and Nikabrik in the movie.


	3. The Battle Cry

**A/N:** Enter a few more characters, including Miraz and Cornelius. To get the dialogue and action from these movie scenes perfectly, I actually went through each of the scenes over and over again, taking notes on each expression, tone of voice, action, etc. Luckily, I had a movie transcript that I found online, which had all of the dialogue and some basic action. Thanks, NarniaWeb!

This is another one of my edited chapters. The scene in Miraz's castle is pretty much the same, though Flynn and Tempestra's duel is new.

* * *

**Miraz's Castle**

**Professor Cornelius' Study**

It was not a good day for Miraz. Cornelius knew that the Lord Protector was often in a bad mood, but today he seemed to be angrier than usual. And it wasn't just because Prince Caspian had escaped. At the moment, though, Miraz's anger was hidden behind a controlled visage as he sat down on Cornelius' own chair, putting his feet up on the tutor's desk where a red arrow quivered in the middle of an ancient painting of four young men and women riding on horses.

"What do you know of Queen Susan's horn?"

The Lord Protector had never asked before of the old Narnian history. If what he said was indeed true and that famous arrow had been found in one of his soldiers, and he had begun to take interest in the forbidden history…then perhaps Caspian had done the right thing. Perhaps he had summoned the very people who could help him take back the kingdom.

Cornelius lowered his glasses to look at the arrow, his face carefully blank.

"It was said to be magic," he said finally, replacing his glasses.

Miraz raised his eyebrows skeptically.

"Magic?"

"The Narnians believed that it could summon their dead kings and queens of old. At least, such was the superstition." The tutor attempted to make it sound like a fairy tale, but he knew the Lord Protector would not be fooled - especially if the fairy tale could be a threat.

Indeed, Miraz got to his feet and walked behind Cornelius, barely contained fury radiating from him in waves. The professor was reminded of a large cat circling its prey.

"And what does Caspian know of this superstition?"

More than you think, Cornelius thought, though out loud, he politely remarked, "My lord, you forbade me from mentioning the old tales."

"So I did," Miraz replied. "Yet I receive another report of a _woman_ who has light magic and can fight like a man. What do you know about _that_?"

The Lady Lightning, Cornelius thought, astonished. She, too, had been summoned by the horn. If she and the kings and queens of old had appeared in Narnia, then perhaps the Narnians had a fighting chance of winning back their kingdom. Caspian would not be without allies.

The tutor looked down, hiding his expression.

"There were stories," he said slowly, "of a woman called the Lady Lightning. She was a fierce warrior and clever advisor, completely loyal to the high king of old. She was not of this world."

"Then she had best return to her own," Miraz sneered. "Meanwhile…"

At the sound of heavy footsteps, Cornelius turned to see Miraz's ally - General Glozelle - and two of his soldiers enter the study. He had always known that it would come to this, especially after Prince Caspian disappeared, but he couldn't resist a parting shot at Miraz. Turning to the Lord Protector, the tutor looked the man in the eye.

"I will say this: if Caspian does know of the deep magic, my lord would have good vision to be nervous."

* * *

**Great Woods**

**Narnian Camp**

"Block! Parry! Protect your side!"

Tempestra leapt backwards as Glenstorm's broadsword cleaved the air and struck her own upraised blade, a borrowed longsword that felt heavy in her hands. There was no respite, however; a second later and the centaur's sword swung towards her left side, which she had a habit of leaving exposed. The vigilante parried the attack, then followed through to lunge at the centaur's torso. However, he deflected the swing and made to thrust his own sword at Tempestra's right shoulder.

The two allies had made it a habit to practice swordsmanship whenever possible. Tempestra had some basic knowledge of fighting with swords and other old-fashioned weapons, but it wasn't enough for a full-out battle. Yes, she could get away with using her twin knives and lightning, but in a fight bigger than a small skirmish against one or two opponents, the vigilante was at a disadvantage. Glenstorm had noticed this and taken it upon himself to give a crash course in sword fighting to the young woman, who knew she would have to use a standard sword.

Julia's skill was steadily improving; already, after two weeks, she was able to fend off Glenstorm, one of the best fighters of the group, for ten minutes before he disarmed her. He also had her building up her forearm muscles by doing practice cuts in the air over and over again whenever she had time. After that, she practiced cuts from different angles, repeating them over and over again until her body had memorized the movement. Glenstorm had no time to teach her more than the basics of sword fighting, but he drilled her in the basics until she mastered them.

The girl almost wished that she had more time before the inevitable fight, so that she'd have more time to practice and improve. The practices had a double effect of showing the Narnians, some of whom sometimes stopped by to watch the two spar, that Julia was in no way shirking hard work and the opportunity to learn. She wasn't as good as the legends made her out to be – to the disappointment of some – but she was on her way.

An hour and many bruises later, Glenstorm finally announced that the practice was over, and the few Narnians who had been awake and watching turned away, discussing the training. Tempestra wiped the sweat from her forehead – it was early morning but she was already sweating heavily – then looked up at Glenstorm.

"I guess I'm lucky I'll never have to fight _you_," she commented wryly. "I'd never win."

The centaur sheathed his broadsword with one smooth movement and looked down at the girl.

"You have neither the strength nor experience," he pointed out fairly. "But if you were to use your magic, the fight would undoubtedly be different."

Tempestra rested her sword on another rock for its owner to find, then began her post-workout stretch.

"The fight would be a lot different if we were fighting unarmed," she added, swiveling her joints. When she clasped her hands in front then easily rotated her arms behind her back, Glenstorm stared. The young woman noticed his astonishment. "I'm double-jointed," she explained with a laugh, relaxing her arms again. "It allows for some…unique skills. Among others."

"How useful are those skills if you can't use a sword?" The two of them looked around to see Flynn the faun watching from a few feet away, his face set in a stubborn expression. He had been watching their practice and listening to their conversation. "That is-" he continued, at Tempestra's eyebrow raise "-battles are only won with weapons. No one will be unarmed."

"You'd be surprised," Tempestra replied coolly. The Narnians who had been watching their practice were now listening, and she could practically sense their doubt. This was it; Flynn was voicing their collective skepticism about her ability to hold her own in a fight. It seemed a display of her talents was in order. Tempestra glanced at Glenstorm, who nodded.

The young woman beckoned Flynn over, and the faun approached warily. She handed him her practice sword, then took a few steps back. Turning to the crowd of Narnians, which was growing larger as more woke up and wandered over, she showed them her silver armguards.

"These are my only weapons," Tempestra declared, indicating that she did not have her knives or her sword. "All of you know about my lightning abilities, and you know that I'm learning to fight with a sword, but what you don't know is that my first and best skill is hand-to-hand combat."

She turned to Flynn, who was watching her guardedly.

"Attack me," she ordered, her gaze sharp. "Don't hold back."

Flynn paused for a brief moment, then lunged at her with a yell.

Tempestra feinted to the side. Taking advantage of Flynn's momentum, her arm shot out and caught him under the chin. The faun landed heavily on his back, then scrambled back to his feet, clutching his sword tightly with both hands. The young woman took a few steps back, letting him recover from his disorientation. That casual move alone would incense him.

She was right. Flynn came at her again, raising the sword to chop at her skull. Before he could bring his weapon down, however, Tempestra curled her fingers and used the heel of her palm to strike upwards at his chin. The faun's head snapped back, and the young woman followed it up quickly with another palm strike to his diaphragm. Flynn dropped his sword and fell to his knees, the wind knocked out of him.

Tempestra waited, her hands clenched in loose fists. She didn't know faun anatomy enough to judge where his kidney was, but she would have targeted that otherwise. It would have been a lot more painful than merely getting the wind knocked out. There was a still moment as everyone waited with bated breath for Flynn to recover. When he did, it was faster than Tempestra expected.

Grabbing the sword from the ground, the faun thrust it at the young woman's torso. It was a strike that was meant to drive through her stomach and kill her painfully. Tempestra dodged neatly out of the way, grabbed Flynn's sword wrist, then twisted it to the side. He dropped it with a strangled yell, which was cut off immediately as the young woman whipped her other arm around his, and halted the blade of her hand against his throat. Had she decided not to stop, she could have crushed his windpipe and killed him.

There was a tense heartbeat as everyone froze. Tempestra's eyes were dangerously dark as they stared challengingly at the faun. For one moment, they remained motionless. Then Flynn stepped away and bowed low to the young woman; when he looked up again at her, it was with a newfound respect. As the tense atmosphere deflated, the Narnian crowd began to applaud, and Tempestra relaxed once more.

"You didn't use your magic," Flynn remarked, puzzled, as she picked up the sword and offered it to him. "You could have used it."

Tempestra just smiled.

"I don't know what the legends told you," she replied, amused, "but I don't use my lightning for everything; it's second to my combat skills. I've been learning hand-to-hand combat much longer."

"Then you must have had a skilled teacher." Glenstorm approached as the mass of Narnians began to disperse. As the centaur joined them and took the proffered sword, Tempestra smiled dryly.

"I trained with more than a few people," she admitted. "But I never learned how to use swords much. My, ah, principal teacher didn't see much use for it."

Thinking about her "principal teacher", Damien, reminded her why she was there. She'd been so busy scouting and training with the Narnians, she'd almost forgotten her real goal: to do whatever it took to find Aslan and ask him to return her to Earth. But what did this even entail? What would she have to do, exactly, to finally get home? Find the ancient kings and queens? Travel with them? Fight with them? Go to war?

A firm hand rested on the girl's shoulder, and she looked up. Glenstorm was looking solemnly at her.

"Aslan will soon return you to your world," he told her, as if reading her thoughts. "Do not despair." When Tempestra gave him a small, grateful smile, the centaur turned the practice sword over and hefted it. It looked small in his hands, especially compared to his broadsword, which was almost as big as the young woman was. "This weapon is not fitting for you," he mused, looking it over. "But perhaps another will do."

* * *

By day, the parade of Narnians trooped through the Great Woods, as they were called, in search of recruiting more Narnians. By night, they camped in the forest and posted sentries to stand watch. The best cooks in the group were responsible for making dinner, and soon everyone would be gathered around fires to eat – centaurs, fauns, dwarfs, cheetahs, badgers, and other talking animals. This was Tempestra's favorite part of the day: after the meal but before sleeping, when everyone was full and satisfied but still chatty. It was then that the Narnians told stories. They usually recounted legends about the Golden Age and the kings and queens. The badgers, who were famous for safeguarding history and stories, would narrate grand battles, glorious victories, and thrilling adventures. They spoke of honorable knights, noble kings and queens, and valiant Narnians. They used their words to illustrate the splendid castle of Cair Paravel, gracefully dancing trees, and the gorgeous royal court. They told of the Long Winter under the White Witch, the Winter Revolution and Aslan's rebirth, and the fifteen golden years. They rarely spoke of the Conquest of Narnia, though when they did, it was with bitterness and hate.

During one night, they were discussing famous battles: the Battle of the Beruna, the Battle of the White Castle, the Battle of Anvard, the Battle of Gold and Silver, and the Siege of Cair Paravel. Eventually, Tempestra asked Glenstorm to recount how his family survived the Telmarine invasion. He clearly did not wish to speak of it, but Tempestra had asked politely. Though a moment of silence passed around the group of Narnians huddled around the fire, the young woman did not take her eyes off the centaur. She would not take back what she had said.

A deep crease appeared between the leader's brows.

"It was one of the last fierce battles against the Telmarines," Glenstorm began slowly. "The invaders had created a new weapon, able to fire many arrows from a large wooden machine." Tempestra fleetingly imagined a kind of medieval wooden machine gun that spewed arrows instead of bullets. "My ancestors took flight during the battle. They lacked the honor to properly fight the enemy." The centaur bowed his head. "They were _cowards_."

Tempestra could see how Glenstorm would think that his ancestors were cowardly for running from battle – certainly she knew far too many heroes who would have shared Glenstorm's opinion – but as a former thief, she understood his ancestors' motivations. Upstanding morals hardly had a place in real life.

"Maybe they weren't really cowards," the young woman suggested, staring at the fire. "Maybe they were wise." When Glenstorm looked at her sideways, she continued, "Look - honor and nobleness and all of that happy idealism can't always hold up in real life – not in helplessly dangerous situations like that battle. They only work in idyllic situations and fiction." She shrugged, her eyes still on the flames. "On Earth, we have this saying: live to fight another day. And that day is _now_. Because your ancestors ran, now _you_ have a chance to destroy the Telmarines and take back Narnia."

Glenstorm went silent once more, though this time his face was more pensive than doubtful. The other Narnians too had gone quiet, though the atmosphere became more comfortable. For a moment, no one said anything, until Flynn spoke up. Ever since the duel with Tempestra, he had become one of her closest allies in the group.

"Surely you must have grand battles where you come from," the faun remarked, from his position across the circle. "There are heroes there, right?"

Tempestra smiled wryly.

"We don't have battles in the same way you do," she pointed out. "And we have very different technology. It's a different way of war; asymmetric warfare is more common now." When the Narnians just stared at her uncomprehendingly, she added, "But battles in our fantasy stories are the same as in Narnia."

"Such as…?"

She sighed.

"There's a book written by an English author; it takes place in a fantasy land, kind of like Narnia. There was a small army, probably outnumbered eight to one, and everyone knew that they were going to die. So the leader of the army gave a rousing speech about facing death and fighting for the end of the world. So all the soldiers charged forward, even though they knew they couldn't win."

The young woman inwardly smiled at the fascinated looks in the Narnians' eyes. They were no stranger to bad odds, but fighting for the end of the world was probably a goal they hadn't thought of fighting for. Here, they fought for Narnia and Aslan.

"The battle cry?" Glenstorm asked quietly.

Tempestra gave a small smile.

"Death. They shouted 'death' over and over again, and they charged their enemy. And that was the most courageous part of it. They weren't afraid of death. They _welcomed_ it." She paused, remembering the point of her speech. "But like I said, that's just a story. Yelling 'death' never won any battles."

Glenstorm nodded solemnly.

"Yes. But would I too have warriors of that courage. After fear of death, there is nothing to stand in the way of a warrior."

The centaur's reply made sense, but he seemed to miss her point. Tempestra opened her mouth to continue debating it, but gave up and closed her mouth as she realized that it was useless. Soldiers could not be completely realistic and pessimistic; they had to have some ideals. They just needed a balance of both. Courage could get warriors far, but bad odds could easily destroy them. Tempestra had never fought in a conflict with such overwhelmingly bad odds, and she wasn't planning to. She was realistic; she picked her battles well.

* * *

The next morning, Glenstorm and a few other leaders of the Narnian group, including Tempestra, were gathered in a circle in deep discussion. Shortly after the sparring practice, an unfamiliar faun and minotaur had come to the camp, claiming to be from another group of hidden Narnians. Within minutes of meeting Glenstorm, the two Narnians were meeting with the leaders of the camp, relating their information as precisely as possible.

"And you say that your numbers are greater than ours?" That was Flynn, perched on top of a boulder.

The unfamiliar faun nodded.

"More than twice your number," he explained. "We sent out scouts to look for more Narnians after the horn was heard."

"And here we are," the minotaur finished, gesturing to the large camp. "We must join forces."

"So we shall." Glenstorm had remained standing as he surveyed the two scouts. "You say that you have a base."

The faun, who seemed to be the more talkative of the two, nodded eagerly.

"Aslan's How."

A murmur of surprise rippled among the leaders of the camp, except for Tempestra, who was silent. She, like Glenstorm, was standing, though she was leaning against a tree a little farther from the rest of the group. However, she could hear just as well, though she preferred to stay out of notice.

"You have over four hundred in the How?" Another centaur asked, amazed. "Impossible."

"We have dug tunnels underground," the faun explained, smiling proudly. "Extended the networks, made room for the Narnians who have come from all around. More come every day."

"Then we shall go as well," Glenstorm decided. "It is a strong base, and a revered place."

"But who is this?"

Everyone turned to look at the minotaur scout, who had finally noticed Tempestra and was gesturing towards her with his heavy axe. Seeing this, the girl frowned slightly. Straightening, she came forward to stand next to Glenstorm, the obvious leader.

"I'm Tempestra," the young woman replied coolly. She was used to Narnians looking at her with suspicion – experience with Telmarines had tarnished their view of humans, legend or no – but she still didn't like it.

"She is the Lady Lightning of old," Glenstorm explained. "She was summoned by the horn, and has come to fight alongside us all."

"Hmph." The minotaur looked away, though the faun looked awed. Clearly, he put more faith in legends than his companion.

"Glenstorm!"

Everyone turned as Ferrah skidded to a halt in front of the group. The cheetah had been scouting as usual, but his return was unusually early.

"Ferrah. Report."

"There is a fight, General," the cheetah exclaimed excitedly. "I had but a moment to see, but there were Telmarine soldiers attacking another Telmarine, younger with less armor and weapons. They're here, in the Great Woods" Another murmur of surprise, mixed with hostility, rippled through the group. "The young Telmarine was with the badger Trufflehunter, and the black dwarf Nikabrik."

"He has kidnapped them?" Glenstorm demanded.

"No." Ferrah shook his head. "He is _helping_ them."

* * *

Reepicheep was aghast, to say the least. Trufflehunter, one of his oldest friends, had just defended a Telmarine - of all people - right when he was about to do away with said Telmarine.

"Trufflehunter? I trust you have a very good reason for this untimely interruption."

A couple of feet away, Nikabrik supported the badger, wearing a sour expression.

"He doesn't," the black dwarf stated. "Go ahead."

Trufflehunter looked at Reepicheep meaningfully. Underneath the mouse, the Telmarine was still looking nervous.

"He's the one who blew the horn."

Reepicheep looked astonished.

"What?"

Before Trufflehunter or the Telmarine could explain, there was the sound of plodding hoofsteps, and a deep voice rang over the entire area.

"Then let him bring it forward."

* * *

**A/N:** Next - Caspian enters the story!


	4. Prince Caspian

**A/N:** Caspian is finally introduced!

This is another chapter that I've edited. Tempestra and Caspian's conversation is very different, though the Dancing Lawn scene is the same. I decided that it was too easy for Tempestra and Caspian to get along right away, so I made Caspian skeptical at first when he meets Tempestra. Their friendship starts from grudging respect, not instant compatibility. I also get to show how Tempestra has a very analytical mind.

* * *

**Great Woods**

**Near the Dancing Lawn**

Glenstorm, followed closely by his three sons, led the Narnian group over the small rise in the earth. Tempestra stood to the side of the centaurs, closely studying the scene. Her eyes roamed over the badger, black dwarf, sword-wielding mouse, and anxious-looking young man splayed on the ground. She did not miss the elegant sword lying by his head, or the white ivory horn tied to his belt. The end of the horn was carved into the head of a lion.

"This is the reason we have gathered," Glenstorm declared. "Who is this horn-caller?" He grimly stared down at the young man, and Tempestra realized with a jolt that he was a Telmarine. He fit the description perfectly – tall, dark-haired, with swarthy skin.

Reluctantly, Reepicheep hopped off the young Telmarine, though he kept his small sword at the ready. The young man – the first human Tempestra had seen in Narnia – got to his feet, dusting his clothes off self-consciously as he gazed up at Glenstorm.

"I am Prince Caspian the Tenth," the Telmarine announced, his accent vaguely Mediterranean. "I escaped from my uncle, Lord Miraz, just a fortnight ago. I-I used Queen Susan's horn to call for help."

The Narnians who had followed Glenstorm began to mutter among themselves. Tempestra narrowed her eyes. She was right, then – the ivory horn that he wore at his hip was the infamous horn that the Narnians claimed could summon the ancient kings and queens. Why a Telmarine – a Telmarine prince, no less – would know about Narnian legends was a surprise in itself. Why he would use the horn, if he knew what it could do, was another mystery.

"We must convene to discuss this matter," Glenstorm proclaimed, bowing his head in acknowledgement. "Come. We shall call a meeting at the Dancing Lawn."

The centaur general turned to leave, signaling that the conversation was over. He and the other Narnians divided into groups: some to follow his lead and make their way towards the Dancing Lawn, and others to alert the rest of the camp about the new developments. Tempestra chose to follow Glenstorm. She turned to go, already analyzing the news.

The Narnians had informed her of the Telmarine royalty, though little was known about Prince Caspian besides the fact that he was heir to the throne. His father had died in his sleep years ago, leaving the throne ready for his son as soon as he turned the proper age to rule. His uncle, Lord Miraz, was part of the Telmarine High Council which served as the governing body under the king. If Caspian was running from his uncle, then it seemed that some political developments and shakeups had taken place within the castle.

Tempestra inwardly smiled. Political instability in the enemy camp was always a good thing

She had walked for a mere minute before she heard the sound of Prince Caspian walking quickly to catch up to her. Unlike the Narnians, who moved through the woods quietly and with stealth, the young Telmarine seemed to crash through the undergrowth.

"Excuse me, my lady?"

Stopping, Tempestra turned to get a good look at the prince. Caspian the Tenth was the epitome of a striking young man: tall, dark, and handsome. His hair was wavy, thick, and long, framing a long clean-shaven face with a strong nose, full lips, and a square cleft chin. He could've been any Telmarine. But it was his eyes that gave him away. Although they had the look of one startled by recent unexpected events, they held a strong look of pride and stubbornness.

Tempestra adopted a cool demeanor.

"Yes?" She wasn't exactly sure how to address Caspian, so she decided to drop titles. Caspian didn't seem bothered by this.

"I noticed that you are the only, well-"

"Human?" Tempestra supplied. Caspian nodded.

"Yes. Yet you are not Telmarine."

The young woman snorted and resumed her stride. The Narnians had already left them at the back, and those who passed them gave Caspian looks ranging from cold to outwardly hostile.

"No shit, Sherlock." Caspian, who was easily matching her hurried stride, frowned in confusion, and Tempestra rolled her eyes. She something forgot that her references went over everyone's heads. "I'm from another world," she explained curtly. "Earth, where the old kings and queens came from."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Caspian look her up and down, not to check her out but to take in her appearance. After all, if Narnia was around the time period of Earth's Medieval Age or Renaissance, then women did not walk around so heavily armed or in pants.

"But how did you come to be here?" the prince asked curiously, entirely unfazed by her animosity. "Magic has not been done in over a thousand years."

Tempestra smiled. It still amused her that the people and creatures in Narnia were so rudimentary that they still used swords and crossbows for weapons, and had no idea what real technology or magic was. It had consistently provided her with a sense of amusement, up until she realized that Narnia lacked important things like toilets, toothbrushes, and deodorant.

"If what everyone says is true, and that horn-" she nodded to the object strapped to his belt "-can summon people from anywhere, then _you_ called me here." At Caspian's puzzled expression, she continued, "The Narnians told me that I was close to the old rulers. So you must've brought me here with them."

"But you are not Queen Susan or Queen Lucy," Caspian clarified. When Tempestra just gave him a patronizing look, he shrugged. He was fiddling distractedly with the ivory horn. "My professor told me stories about Narnia, but he did not tell me about many youths of the royal court."

"She was not a courtier."

Startled, Tempestra and Caspian turned at the sound of Glenstorm's deep voice. The centaur was trotting over from the side. He gave a brief respectful nod to Tempestra – which Caspian observed curiously – then fell into step beside them. "She is the Lady Lightning."

At this, Caspian turned to gaze, awed, at the young woman.

"The legendary Lady Lightning?" he paused, incredulous. "But you are too young!"

Tempestra raised her eyebrows.

"What does that have to do with anything?" she demanded. Caspian shrugged.

"Well, you're a girl. Can you fight? Do you know anything? Do you have any experience?"

Tempestra shot the prince a withering look. Glenstorm, who had been around her enough to know that it was the expression that she gave before an argument, smiled wryly in anticipation of the inevitable chastisement.

"Let me ask you something, _Your Highness_," the young woman began, her voice falsely pleasant. "How old are you again? 18? 19?" Caspian did not reply, and she continued, her voice becoming hard, "How many people have you fought, outside of practice? How many of your opponents intended to actually injure or kill you? I expect your practice opponents were lenient towards you because they didn't want to injure the prince and fall out of royal favor." When Caspian pursed his lips, silent, she tapped the weapons strapped to her belt and continued, "I used these to fight five of your soldiers the other day, and I won. They were willing to kill me, but I let them live because I wanted to."

Caspian was looking away now, clearly uncomfortable. Tempestra went on anyway. "As for my intelligence – let me guess what's going on in your court, and you can tell me if I'm right or wrong. You, Caspian the Tenth, are heir to the throne because your father, Caspian the Ninth, died. Your father's brother is Lord Miraz, who has been acting as regent and steadily filling the political vacuum that your father left. Now you've escaped from your own uncle, who presumably tried to kill you. I bet the reason he hasn't killed you before now, is because he didn't have his own heir. But since you're here now, it looks like he just had a son. Am I right?"

Caspian's jaw clenched, and the young woman smiled. "So tell me: is age or gender really an indicator of ability?"

Glenstorm was smiling, but Tempestra was watching for the prince's reaction. He swallowed hard, then met her gaze once more, shaking his head. This time, he looked apologetic.

"You are right," he admitted evenly, "though you are the first to explain it to me this way." He swallowed again, then added, "I apologize for any disrespect I have shown. I was wrong."

Tempestra studied the prince's expression, searching for insincerity. He did not seem insincere, though it looked as though granting an apology was difficult for him. However, she nodded, accepting it. At least he was humble enough to know when to apologize.

Caspian hesitated.

"The Lady Lightning was said to have the magic of light," he told her cautiously. "Do _you_?"

The young woman sighed heavily, though inside she was amused. It was surprising how much the people and creatures here were impressed by magic or anything paranormal, especially since there were legends of magic people in the past. Raising one hand, she summoned a thread of lightning to it. In a trice, a thin crackling bolt was jumping between her fingers.

Glenstorm bowed his head again in respect, though Caspian looked downright reverential.

"It's lightning," Tempestra explained. Clenching her fist, she pulled the lightning back into her. "And don't stand on ceremony," she added dryly. "It doesn't fit me. Just 'Tempestra' is fine."

"And you may call me 'Caspian'," the young Telmarine replied, solemnly. "Though I believe that 'Tempestra' is not your true name."

For the first time, Tempestra was startled by the prince.

"What makes you say that?" she demanded. None of the Narnians had ever doubted it.

Caspian smiled, a hint of humor in his features.

"I may not have magic, but I _am_ a prince," he told her. "I have learned when to notice such things."

Tempestra nodded grudgingly.

"I guess so." She glanced sideways at him. "Though I'd rather not say my real name, if that's all right with you…Caspian."

She didn't really expect the Narnians or Telmarines to meet some villain from Earth and spill her secret, but she wanted to be safe, just in case. After all, if this was all an illusion – though she highly doubted it at the moment – then she could accidentally give away her identity to a malevolent illusionist or mind manipulator.

However, the prince nodded, understanding.

"I respect your wishes, Tempestra. Though I hope that one day, you will have earned my trust enough to tell me your true name."

Glenstorm, who had been silent for some time, spoke up.

"It is unlikely, Your Highness," he remarked evenly. When Tempestra and Caspian looked at him, the centaur continued, "Only one has learned of the Lady Lightning's true name. With luck, we will meet him soon."

* * *

**Great Woods**

**Dancing Lawn**

The meeting that Glenstorm had called, Tempestra thought wryly, was more like a protest. Though the small pocket of land was luxurious, with plush green grass and small waterfalls, the darkening sky had cast a grim shadow on the large group of Narnians gathered on the slopes. They were clustered around the small circular space in the center, where a frightened Caspian stood alone.

So far, the meeting wasn't going well for the Telmarine prince. Many of the Narnians had been shouting accusations and spiteful insults at the young man, and to top it off, Nikabrik had somehow become the representative of all who opposed Caspian. Clearly, the fact that the prince had tried to help the black dwarf had not made him any more of a friend to the Narnian.

Yet right when it seemed that Caspian's cause had lost all hope and the Narnians were starting to think about attacking the young man, Reepicheep (despite almost having killed the Telmarine) and Trufflehunter came to the prince's rescue. They both interjected with good points to support Caspian, who seemed to gain courage from the defense. After that, talk turned from punishing the prince to making him king.

Throughout the debate, Tempestra kept out of the way, silent as she observed everyone. From her perch on one of the small boulders in the back of the group, she could examine each Narnian's expression and hear everything at the same time. This was, technically, not her fight to fight. Narnia and Telmarine had been in conflict for many years – centuries, even. Tempestra had arrived less than three weeks ago. She had no right to persuade anyone with so little experience and knowledge. However, she could show her allegiance.

So when Glenstorm unsheathed his giant broadsword and pledged that he and his sons would fight on Caspian's side, Tempestra knew it was time. Glenstorm, with his astral prophecy and sheer power in the group, had tipped the scales in the prince's favor. One by one, the Narnians vowed to back Caspian. As they lifted their swords, axes, bows, daggers, and spears into the air, Tempestra – still in the back – stood and raised one knife in salute. Caspian, looking around at the demonstrations of support, caught her eye and nodded almost imperceptibly.

To win his throne back, he would need the Lady Lightning on his side.

* * *

**A/N:** The Pevensies are introduced in the next chapter!


	5. The Pevensies

**A/N: **Another chapter redone! I tweaked the first meeting between Peter and Tempestra, which will make more sense in the next chapter when it'll be explained why Peter reacts the way he does below.

* * *

**Great Woods**

**Near the Narnian Camp**

In the week after the Narnians joined forces with Prince Caspian, the bulk of the group moved on to travel to Aslan's How and meet up with the Narnians who were hiding there. The rest of the group – which numbered roughly twenty-five Narnians including Tempestra – continued to rove around the Great Woods looking for the ancient kings and queens, and conducting reconnaissance on the Telmarines. Their small number allowed them to travel faster and lighter. At one point, they even managed to steal enough weapons from the Telmarine army to equip three regiments. Caspian had led that particular raid, leaving a bold 'X' under a menacing note for the Telmarines to find. If they did not know who led the rebel army, they did now.

Tempestra was largely left out of the excitement, spending most of her time practicing swordsmanship and scouting ahead with various partners. Although she did not like spending so much time roaming around because there was never anything to report, it did take her mind off of her mission to return home. It had been four weeks since she had appeared in Narnia, and it was beginning to dawn on her how long it would take for her to get back to Earth. She remembered her history lessons about insurgencies; it took years for them to bear fruit. In an effort to shake off that foreboding feeling, she had volunteered to increase her share of scouting missions.

On one particular reconnaissance operation, Tempestra was assigned to work with two Narnians: Asterius (the minotaur from the How), and Pattertwig the squirrel. She had suggested a few days earlier that scouts traveled in trios, and with various strengths; thus, there would always be a heavy-hitter, a swift messenger, and a silent shadow. Tempestra was always the third. She usually didn't mind scouting with others, but Asterius and Pattertwig were not her ideal partners. Pattertwig was fast but dim-witted, and Tempestra had a strong suspicion that Asterius disliked her. He was one of the few Narnians in their group who had not attempted to talk to her, and he had an annoying habit of insisting that he travel heavily armed, even on scouting missions where lightness and swiftness were crucial.

Tempestra ignored the tense silence as they picked their way around the trees, the minotaur trudging behind her and to her side as Pattertwig scampered along the tree branches on the opposite side. They kept a triangle formation with Tempestra in front, her steps light and quiet on the forest floor. Once in awhile, she winced at Asterius' loud plodding at her rear; even from ninety feet away, she could hear the crunch of broken branches and rustle of leaves. It was no small wonder that she almost missed the sound of a voice.

It had been fleeting and high-pitched, but she had definitely heard it. Tempestra signaled Asterius to keep going as she doubled back and around, making a wide arc around the minotaur as she investigated the source of the noise. As Asterius continued to trudge on without her, the young woman cautiously hiked around a small dirt ridge upon which a few trees were stubbornly clinging. What she saw on the other side made her stop short.

There was a girl – a human girl.

She was around eight or nine, but clothed like a Narnian, in a dress that fit perfectly with the Narnian world. The red-haired girl was crouched behind a bush, anxiously watching something on the on the other side of the ridge. Tempestra brushed aside her initial questions – Where was she from? Was she Telmarine? – and turned to looked in the direction of the girl's gaze. For the second time in as many minutes, her heart leapt into her throat.

On the other side of the ridge, a young man – also human – was stealthily approaching Asterius from behind. He was blond and dressed in Narnian clothes, holding a heavy sword in both hands in preparation to attack the minotaur. As quietly as she could, Tempestra crept behind the ridge and towards him, keeping out of his peripheral vision. He might have been human, but for all she knew, he could have been Telmarine. And as long as he was about to attack her ally – however much her ally disliked her – he was the enemy.

Tempestra reached for her weapon. But instead of going for her usual twin knives, she reached to her side for the slim sword sheathed and belted around her waist. Only a few days before, Glenstorm had equipped her with a more fitting weapon – a one-handed sword. It was shorter and lighter than the longsword that the centaurs and Telmarines favored, but it was broader and easier for the quick movements that Tempestra preferred.

The young woman wanted to have the upper hand when she surprised the young man, but she did not relish the chance of accidentally killing him. Ideally, if she alerted him to her presence right before she struck, he would be able to defend himself in time - if his reflexes were good. She would find out either way.

With one smooth movement, Tempestra unsheathed her sword. So preoccupied was the young man, that he did not even hear her as she padded closer, right hand gripping the sword hilt. When she was close enough that she could reach him, she swept her sword from underneath her opponent's weapon, shoving it out of the way in an attempt to distract him.

He didn't disappoint.

The blond youth, startled, turned but managed to hold on to his sword. Before he could retaliate, Tempestra swung her weapon around, the edge diving for the boy's right arm – his sword arm. He blocked the slice easily and shoved her weapon aside before darting in and swinging the hilt of his sword towards her head. The young woman ducked. Moving in close to her opponent so that he could not use his sword, she released one hand from her sword hilt to land an uppercut into her adversary's diaphragm. He stumbled forward, half-winded. Taking advantage of the moment, Tempestra ducked out from underneath his arm. She pivoted and chopped again at his out-stretched right arm, hoping to force him to drop his weapon.

But as her sword cleaved the air, she realized that she'd allowed her left side to be unprotected. Her opponent turned on the spot, swinging his sword in a flashing arc towards Tempestra's neck–

–and stopped, the edge of the weapon inches from her skin as he stared at her face. Tempestra saw a flash of recognition cross the young man's features, followed by shock.

"_Julia?_" he whispered.

Tempestra suddenly felt like the ground beneath her feet had fallen away. There was no way that this stranger – this person from another world – could know her real name. No one in Narnia knew her real name, not even Glenstorm, whom she trusted the most. She'd thought she was used to surprises in Narnia, but this topped everything.

She just stood there, sword forgotten, as she stared back at the young man, who was as frozen as she was. Now that she was closer, she could get a good look at him. He had sideswept blond hair, a square jaw which was clenched tightly, and determined blue eyes which roved over her face as if drinking in her appearance. Unlike the other Narnians, he seemed unsurprised by her male garb. But his expression, which had been stunned a moment ago, became bewildered at her lack of recognition. They might have stood there for several more minutes staring at her each other, had the next events not happened.

There was a low shout and Caspian leapt out of nowhere, his sword lunging at the young man's shoulder. The blond youth whirled around and blocked the strike just in time, beginning an earnest fight with the prince. Asterius appeared behind Tempestra, grabbing her arm and tugging her back in time to avoid a swinging blade. It barely missed the young woman, who stumbled backwards, still dazed by the sudden change of events. Who were these people, how did he seem to recognize her, and why hadn't he killed her? Most importantly, how did he know her real name?

She watched the fight numbly. Though the two young men were equal in age, strength, and stamina, the blond boy seemed to be more experienced and skilled than Caspian. His fighting style, however, was more angry and forceful than when he had battled her. At times, his chops and strikes were so powerful that they could hear the sound of the swords shuddering against each other.

Caspian was hard-pressed trying to keep his opponent off, and eventually the Telmarine prince found himself weaponless, trying to tug the blond boy's sword from where it was lodged in a nearby tree. Although Tempestra saw the other young man raise a rock to smash into Caspian's head, she could find no breath to shout a word of warning to the unsuspecting prince as his back was turned. Luckily, someone beat her to it, though it was not a sharp word of warning but a sob of distress.

"No, stop!"

It was the young red-headed girl whom Tempestra had spotted before. The little girl had stood up on the ridge and was looking at the two young men in anguish. It seemed that she could not stand to see the sight of bloodshed and death.

As if on cue, the rest of the Narnian camp appeared on the scene, all of them armed to the teeth and ready for a fight. Pattertwig had run back during the fighting to alert the group that there was danger ahead. Turning and seeing that he was outnumbered, the blond youth looked back at Caspian, who had finally pulled his opponent's sword from the tree and was holding it ready.

"Prince Caspian?" the blond boy asked hesitantly, his voice vaguely British. The Telmarine prince lifted his chin challengingly.

"Yes? And who are you?"

"Peter!"

At the sudden shout from behind the ridge, Tempestra turned to see three more people appear from behind the little girl: a teenage human girl, a younger human boy, and a white dwarf. Both humans had black hair, wore Narnian clothes, and were armed – the girl with a bow and arrows, and the boy with a longsword. With a jolt, Tempestra realized that all four humans looked related, as if they were siblings. It was the girl who had shouted the blond boy's name, her voice echoing his English accent.

_Peter? Why does that name sound familiar? _She didn't know anyone named Peter, and she was sure that none of the Narnians had the same name.

Caspian also seemed to be adding things up. He looked at the newcomers, then at his opponent's sword which he still held, and finally at the young man himself. Realization dawned on him.

"High King Peter?"

_High King Peter the Magnificent, Queen Susan the Gentle, King Edmund the Just, and Queen Lucy the Valiant… the kings and queens ruled Narnia during the Golden Age._

This was it. These were the kings and queens of old. These were the people whom the Narnians were waiting and searching for, to lead them out of their exile and reclaim their kingdom. And Tempestra had nearly been killed by one of them.

The blond youth, High King Peter, adopted a patronizing tone. He dropped the stone in his hand.

"I believe you called?" he remarked, more regal than he had been mere minutes ago. Caspian still looked astonished.

"Yes, but – I thought you'd be older."

Judging from the high king's expression, it was the wrong thing to say, though Tempestra could see the Telmarine prince's point. The four of them were much younger than she had expected; she had thought that the rulers would be adults, perhaps the same age that they had been when they had disappeared. But the youngest girl could not have been more than ten or eleven years old. How in the world would they be fit to lead a rebellion?

High King Peter began to turn away coolly.

"Well if you'd like, we can come back in a few more years-"

"No," Caspian broke in hurriedly. "No, that's all right. It's just…you weren't what I expected."

His eyes flicked over to the rest of the siblings, and Tempestra saw his gaze linger a second longer on the girl who must have been Queen Susan, the girl holding the bow and arrows. The teenage girl smiled slightly, and Tempestra raised an eyebrow. Did she detect some kind of attraction between the two royalties?

In spite of Caspian's quick backtrack, High King Peter still seemed irritated.

"Neither are you," he shot back. He looked directly at Tempestra, who met his eyes evenly. Despite the moment they had had during the fight, she liked the blond youth less and less. His lofty, arrogant manner left something to be desired. If this was what the ancient kings and queens were really like, the Narnians had exaggerated their noble and good characters.

The high king was still staring at her accusingly. "Why did you attack me?" he demanded. Tempestra, remembering the sword still clutched in her hands, sheathed it and returned his look challengingly.

"You were about to attack one of the other scouts," she retorted curtly, folding her arms. "I think it's fair that I defended him." When he just stared at her in stunned silence, she glanced questioningly at Caspian, then Glenstorm. Caspian was looking irritably at the high king, and Glenstorm looked disconcerted. Ferrah, Asterius, and a few of the other Narnians avoided her gaze.

Something was wrong. They had withheld an important bit of information from her.

High King Peter bridged the gap between the two of them. Grabbing her by the arms, he shook her slightly as his urgent blue eyes pierced her own.

"_Julia. _It's me – Peter."

"Hey, get off me!" Tempestra shoved the boy in the chest, making him stumble backwards. "What is wrong with you?" she demanded, as he gaped at her. "You can't just grab people like that. I don't even know you!"

The young man blanched. For a moment, he was speechless with shock and outrage.

"Your Majesty," Glenstorm intervened abruptly, his deep voice carrying over to them, "The Lady Lightning has no recollection of being in Narnia."

The high king shook his head.

"That's impossible," he snapped. "We fought alongside each other! We were betrothed, for God's sake!" He took a step towards Tempestra, who summoned a handful of lightning and held it in front of herself defensively.

"I dare you to touch me again," she warned, and the young man took a step back, his jaw clenched in fury. There was a tense silence throughout the area. Nobody wanted to speak up and confirm this revelation and in turn infuriate the two of them.

Tempestra swallowed hard, but her outstretched hand did not waver. It all made sense now – Glenstorm evading her questions about her relationship to the long-lost rulers, and the reason why she had been pulled to Narnia in the first place. When the magic horn had summoned the ancient royalty, it had even summoned her – the advisor and royalty-to-be.

"Well…." The younger boy, the one named King Edmund, awkwardly broke the silence. "We can talk about that later." He looked around at the array of Narnians – wolves, black and white dwarves, centaurs, minotaurs, and more. "We weren't expecting…everyone."

Trufflehunter seemed to understand what the boy was hinting at.

"A common enemy unites even the oldest of foes," the badger replied tactfully, and with that, the Narnians began putting away their weapons. Finally, they had found what they were looking for: their kings and queens of old, their leaders, their inspirations, their saviors.

Reepicheep, the leader of the mice, scurried over to stand in front of High King Peter.

"We have anxiously awaited your return, my liege," he proclaimed nobly, giving a small bow. "Our hearts and swords are at your service."

The young man swallowed his former anger and turned to the mouse. He smiled appreciatively, and Tempestra noticed that his expression was not condescending. The fact that he was a mouse was a touchy subject for Reepicheep – not because he was ashamed of being one, but because so many people underestimated and belittled him for it. At least the high king knew better than to do that.

"Well at least we know _some_ of you can handle a blade," High King Peter remarked, though Tempestra thought that he might have been mocking Caspian's swordfighting. However, nobody else seemed to notice; in fact, they all looked relieved that the young man seemed to have moved past his initial fury over Tempestra's reaction.

"Yes, indeed," Reepicheep replied proudly. "And I have recently put them to good use securing weapons for your army, sire."

High King Peter nodded decisively, though Tempestra saw, from the corner of her eye, Glenstorm glance at Caspian. When the high king spoke again, the girl turned her attention back to him.

"Good," the blond boy stated, turning to look at Caspian. "Because we're going to need every sword we can get."

One glance at Caspian's face showed that the Telmarine prince was clearly displeased by the recent turn of events. Indeed, Tempestra could see that resentment had been growing in Caspian's eyes as he watched everything unfold around him. She could not blame him; they had all met High King Peter in the span of only a few minutes, and already he was establishing himself as the new leader of the Narnians.

Tempestra's suspicion was confirmed when Caspian held High King Peter's sword out, his eyes coolly matching the blond boy's.

"Well then, you will probably be wanting yours back."

The resentment did not seem to be lost on the young man. However, he merely accepted his sword and sheathed it without comment, before turning around and walking away. The other Narnians, without waiting for Caspian, fell into line behind the high king. With one last glare at his back, Tempestra followed.


	6. Losing Everything

**A/N:** I decided to flesh out the characters a lot more in this novelization, mainly because there was a lot of potential for character development that was only lightly touched on in the movie itself. So you'll see how Peter reacted to leaving Narnia in _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_, and a little bit how his siblings did as well. Caspian's resentment about Peter builds up a little here, too, so it makes more sense when he and Peter fight later.

I almost entirely rewrote the original version of this chapter because it never sat well with me, and I'm a lot happier with it now.

* * *

The group of Narnians, now accompanied by the legendary rulers, marched in a line of two or three abreast towards Aslan's How. Peter and Glenstorm, who were deep in conversation, led the parade, while Caspian walked alone in the back. His eyebrows were furrowed in a surly scowl, and he was so deep in thought that it took Tempestra three times to get his attention. When he finally heard her call out his name, he started in surprise. She had stopped by the side of the line; when he caught up to her, they continued their pace.

"Okay, spill." When Caspian stared at Tempestra uncomprehendingly, the young woman raised her eyebrows. "Tell me what's been bothering you," she explained. "Ever since the Pevensies joined us, you've been sulking. I know you want to rant, so do it. I'm probably the only one here besides you who doesn't worship them." Caspian pressed his lips together, silent, and Tempestra smiled wryly. "What, you don't want to talk about how much you hate Peter?"

"I don't _hate_ him," the prince replied quickly.

"No, but you're angry that he took control of this whole operation from you."

"High King Peter has the right to be leading the Narnians," Caspian remarked, shrugging. "He _was_ the ruler during the Golden Age."

"And that gives him the only right?" The Telmarine glanced quizzically at Tempestra, who gave her own shrug. "Look, he may have been king of everything a thousand years ago, but this isn't just his fight. _You're_ the one who has to unite the Narnians and Telmarines. Only you can bridge the two groups. You can't just let Peter step in and take over."

Caspian looked away.

"The Narnians will only look to the ancient rulers," he insisted.

"I think you'd be surprised how many of them won't," Tempestra countered. "Weren't half of the Narnians here enemies of the Pevensies way back then? You know, black dwarves, minotaurs, and everything? They don't seem to forget old alliances."

The Telmarine glanced sideways at her.

"What do you want me to do, challenge King Peter?"

Tempestra snorted.

"Ha. No, nothing like that. You'll only make enemies that way. Just don't let him shove you aside when the decision-making happens. You have every right to have an opinion."

Caspian looked at the young woman thoughtfully. When she raised her eyebrows in question, he shook his head.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, perplexed. "Why are you helping me?"

Hearing Glenstorm call her name near the front of the line, Tempestra began to quicken her pace.

"Because we're the two outsiders here," she told Caspian. Giving him a dry smile, she jogged ahead. As she passed by Queen Susan and Queen Lucy, the younger sister caught her hand and squeezed it quickly. Tempestra turned, startled, to see the little girl smiling at her warmly.

"It's good to see you again, Julia," Lucy told her cheerfully. Susan was smiling kindly at her as well, as if they were old friends. Unnerved by their casual affection for her, Tempestra gave them an awkward smile and moved on. She was still feeling disconcerted when she caught up to Glenstorm, who strode next to High King Peter. The young man glanced at her, his jaw clenched, then looked away. Tempestra turned away from him stiffly to look at Glenstorm.

"You called?"

The centaur general nodded gravely and began sidling away.

"I leave the both of you to yourselves," he remarked, and before Tempestra could open her mouth in protest, he made a hasty retreat, leaving her walking side by side with Peter in an uncomfortable silence. When Tempestra glanced back to send him a withering look, she saw that Glenstorm had pulled the group back a couple yards to give them relative privacy.

"This isn't how I imagined our reunion to go," Peter said abruptly. His hands were linked tightly behind his back, and he stared straight ahead, his expression determinedly wooden. Tempestra snorted.

"Well, you're not the only one," she replied. "I didn't really think signing up for all of this would include getting an unknown ex."

"You really can't remember anything?" the young man asked, glancing at her. "How we met, how we departed, anything?"

Tempestra shook her head.

"I think I'd remember spending fifteen years in a fantasy land," she said dryly. "And my whole life is accounted for, so…" She shrugged. "I still think all of you have the wrong person."

"I'm not wrong about this," Peter insisted. "I would recognize you anytime, anywhere. You're younger than you were when we left, but it's you. It's definitely you." Tempestra looked away, and he continued, "Maybe you became younger like us when you came back to Earth. We – Sue, Ed, Lucy, and I – we de-aged fifteen years when we went through the wardrobe back to Earth."

"How did it happen?" Tempestra asked, curious in spite of herself.

Peter's face was grim.

"We were on a chase," he explained. "We found the lamppost and the wardrobe, and fell back to Earth from Narnia. We've spent the last year at boarding school. We didn't mean to leave," he quickly added. "It was an accident. Believe me, I wouldn't have left Narnia on purpose."

"Didn't you miss your parents while you were in Narnia?" Tempestra said doubtfully. "Your home?"

Peter smiled ruefully.

"Cair Paravel became our home," he replied. "Narnia, our kingdom, was our home. _You_ were my home." She looked away again, and he added quietly, "I became a boy again, no longer a king. You can't imagine how that changes a person."

Tempestra was silent. He was right – she couldn't imagine the kind of emotional and psychological trauma that would be involved in de-aging fifteen years. She didn't know what kind of person she would be in fifteen years, but she probably wouldn't want to relive her teenage years. Growing up once was enough.

"I'm sorry about what happened to you," the young woman said slowly. "And you probably want to go back to the way things used to be." Peter looked at her and opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off. "But I don't remember any of that. The other Narnians told me about the Golden Age and all the victories and everything, but that wasn't me. That couldn't have been me."

"So what are you saying?" Peter asked irritably. "You want me to act like those fifteen years didn't happen? Like we're strangers?" Tempestra's silence was answer enough, and the young man looked away with a heavy sigh. Meeting her gaze again, he reached out to touch her shoulder, but dropped his hand and anchored it behind his back once more as if to resist the temptation. Tempestra adopted a kinder tone.

"Try to imagine what I'm feeling now," she told him firmly. "When we first met, we probably didn't get along right away. Just try to imagine we're starting all over again."

Peter clenched his jaw.

"Fine," he said finally, but the tone of his voice made it obvious that it wasn't. "But Julia-" He stopped walking, and she did the same, waiting. The high king swallowed hard, and for a moment Tempestra glimpsed his older self behind his eyes. He looked weary. "Try to imagine what it's like to lose everything, and even when you return, you can never get it back," he said quietly. "Try to imagine that, and you'll know how I feel." He gave her a deep bow and strode away, leaving her standing by the edge of the line, staring at his retreating back.

* * *

"My lady."

Tempestra turned, still slightly dazed, and saw King Edmund standing beside her; he'd come up without her noticing. He was the one that the Narnians called The Just: a dark-haired boy who had once betrayed his family when he was manipulated by the White Witch, but who had changed afterwards and become a fair ruler. He was the third sibling, the black sheep.

Edmund motioned to the line of Narnians trooping by them. He was smiling as if sharing a joke with her. "Will you walk with me?" he asked. Tempestra nodded, and they fell into step.

"You know I'm not a lady, right?" she remarked after a moment of comfortable silence. Edmund smiled again to himself.

"That's what you said every time I called you one," he replied. "But I never saw you complain when you pulled rank on people." Tempestra gave a small smile, but it was wiped away when she remembered Peter's words.

"Did you lose everything when you left Narnia?" she asked. Edmund grew somber.

"Pete said that," he said, more of a statement than a question. When Tempestra nodded, the young man sighed. "I don't know you as well as Peter does," he remarked, "but I bet you asked Peter to forget everything between you two." He glanced at the high king's figure up ahead. Tempestra's silence was enough to answer his question.

"Sue, Luce, and I can start over with you, but Peter? That's a lost cause." Edmund shook his head, his eyes still on his older brother's back. "You didn't see him the whole year since we came back through the wardrobe. He wasn't just upset because we'd left Narnia and couldn't get back; he was upset because he thought he'd never see you again." Tempestra looked away.

"He didn't have to be so intense when I first met him," she retorted. "He shook me like he thought that would help me remember or something." But her argument was half-hearted; Peter's words and the raw pain in his voice had shaken her.

Edmund snorted.

"Look, he spent a whole year grieving, and when he finally did see you again, you attacked him and claimed that you didn't remember anything about your years together."

"But it's true-"

"It doesn't matter if it's true or not," he interrupted, waving her protest aside. "You might not remember anything, but Peter does. Ever since you walked into Cair Paravel and warned us about that rebellion by the White Witch's supporters, you made an impression on him. He remembers _everything_ that you've done together. Every battle, every dinner, every ball – he treasures all of it."

The young man glanced at her. "You two were pretty in love at the time," he remarked. "For Peter, it's as if one moment you're pledging your love to him, and the next moment, you're acting like a stranger." Tempestra pressed her lips together mulishly, and Edmund shrugged. "I'm not saying you have to pledge your love to him again. I'm just saying you should keep that in mind." His voice became soft. "He doesn't tell me, but I know he's been grieving. He just takes it out in the wrong way."

* * *

It was noon by the time the group arrived at the edge of a large grassy field, at the back of which squatted a large stone structure. It reminded Tempestra strongly of a pyramid, though without the tip. Nearby trees and plants grew around and on top of the crumbling structure, adding to its old and worn façade. Directly in front of the entrance was a small circular area laid down in stone, circled by fallen slabs of rock and framed by two rough square archways. It all gave the impression of a place that had once been in full glory and seen better times, but which now was nothing more than ruins.

Caspian moved to the front to stand alongside the Pevensies, Tempestra, and Glenstorm.

"Welcome," he announced, "to Aslan's How."

Tempestra eyed the edifice doubtfully. It looked hundreds of years old, and not fit to be a defensible headquarters for a rebellion. Yet the Pevensies did not look disappointed; indeed, they looked reverential. As they group approached the stone building, they were greeted by two columns of centaurs flanking the stone path leading to the entrance. The centaurs all had unsheathed swords raised to form an archway for the royalty, and without any hesitation, the Pevensies entered.

Prince Caspian faltered for a moment, letting the Pevensies enter first. When Tempestra stopped and looked back at him, she saw that the prince's face was one of uncertainty and insecurity. When she raised her eyebrows as if to say, 'are you coming or not', he nodded and followed her inside.


	7. War Conference

**A/N: **Another edited chapter. I only tweaked this chapter a little because most of it draws from the movie script, and the new scenes are basically the same. I changed the dialogue between Julia and Lucy a little because I wanted their conversation to reflect their personalities more (especially Julia's, which will connect to later stories).

* * *

**Great Woods**

**Aslan's How**

The entrance of Aslan's How led directly to a large circular room with a padded dirt floor. Roughly-hewn stone tunnels with high ceilings branched off of the main room, which was dimly-lit with only scattered torches and small fires to illuminate the large collection of Narnians, who were crouched by the fires. Many of them were sooty from the fires, and all looked grim-faced as they made weapons or sharpened them. It was a bleak sight.

Caspian seemed to realize this, because as they all looked around, he commented, "It may not be what you are used to, but it is defensible."

The Pevensies didn't seem to mind the crudeness as they strode through the middle of the room and towards a set of shallow steps leading to a tunnel on the opposite side. Tempestra, however, pursed her lips as she gazed around at the Narnians, many of whom looked up as they passed by. Though many looked awed at the sight of their long-ago kings and queens, they looked too weary to be able to pose much of a threat to their enemies.

"They're inspired by our presence."

Turning, Tempestra saw Peter standing behind her, his hands clasped behind his back with a somber look. He had noticed her doubtful look.

"They're inspired by _your_ presence," she replied. "You're the one who's the Magnificent, remember?" She hesitated, then added, "They'll need more than inspiration to get through this."

The high king furrowed his brow.

"Summoning us here is a start. I'm working on the rest."

From the tunnel came Queen Susan's voice, which was tinged with a hint of anticipation and excitement.

"Peter, you may want to see this."

As the youth went over to join his sister, Tempestra took one more glance around the room before following him. The narrow tunnel was even darker than the main room, with fewer torches. The sparse flickering light barely illuminated a series of pictures painted on one of the long tunnel walls. When Tempestra stepped forward to join the Pevensies and Caspian in gazing at the paintings, she saw that they resembled cave drawings, though with more faded colors. The first drawing depicted two Narnian girls riding on the back of a large lion.

"It's us," Susan breathed, staring at the image. They all glanced down the wall and saw the rest of the paintings, one of which showed four crowned children, dressed grandly and standing in front of thrones.

"What is this place?" Lucy asked. Her eyes, which had been riveted on a drawing of a faun and an old-fashioned lamppost, came to rest on the Telmarine prince with puzzlement.

Caspian looked surprised at their bewilderment.

"You don't know?"

Picking up one of the torches hanging on the wall, the Telmarine prince led the group down the dark tunnel. Tempestra made to follow, but stopped at a tap on her shoulder. Resisting the instinctual urge to slap away the hand, she turned to see Peter standing beside her again. The high king inclined his head at the wall next to them.

"Look."

Tempestra stepped closer to the wall. There, a scene had been painted of a small army of Narnians, weapons drawn and pointed at an army of roughly-dressed men who could be none other than Telmarines. At the head of the Narnian army were two bold figures on horses: a young blond man in full battle armor; and a young woman in black leather armor, violet cloth, and chain mail.

There was no mistaking High King Peter and the Lady Lightning. The artist had included the smallest of details, including the rearing red lion on Peter's tunic, and the brilliant lightning bursting from Julia's brandished sword.

"My God," Tempestra whispered. Reaching out, she touched the painting with trembling fingers. "It's us."

Peter nodded.

"The first time we fought alongside each other." He pointed to another picture to the right, which showed High King Peter seated on his throne, and the Lightning Lady standing to his side behind him. Almost unnoticeably, her hand was resting on his shoulder. "This probably represents my reign, and your time as advisor." The youth stared at the painting, obviously reminiscing. "As a pair, we were invincible. We could do no wrong."

Tempestra looked at him, raising her eyebrows.

"Right," she said. "Until you disappeared, I forgot everything, and the Telmarines took over."

Peter's face hardened.

"But now that we've returned, we'll take Narnia back."

The young woman did not like his expression. It was one of determination, driving ambition, even anger. But before she could say anything, a bright flare of light caught their attention; it came from deeper inside the tunnel. By the time they made it down the steps and into the large stone room at the end of the tunnel, they saw that Caspian had lit a fiery trench that circled the perimeter of the room, revealing solid pillars, blocks of fallen stone, and smooth carvings on the walls. At the center was a stone slab, which was cracked down the middle, and a stone archway. Carved into the wall and framed by the archway was a picture of a majestic lion. It stared down at them, its expression both intimidating and reassuring.

"Aslan?" Tempestra murmured. During her time spent with the Narnians, they had told her stories and legends that were crucial to the culture of Narnia. Aslan had been the leading figure, starting from the beginning. It had been he who had created the land of Narnia, and given voices to the animals. The Narnians regarded him as a mixture between a god and a king.

Lucy slowly walked forward towards the Stone Table, her eyes on the carving of Aslan. Stopping, she turned back to look at them.

"He must know what he's doing," she told them, her eyes pleading.

Looking around at everyone else's expressions – and seeing uncertainty on many – Tempestra turned her gaze lastly on the high king. Peter was staring at Aslan's carving as well, though his face was one of mulishness. Looking at his face, Tempestra realized that the young man had lost hope in Aslan. His bitterness in returning to England and being reduced to a child had combined with his anger at the Telmarines. He was rebellious now, and stubborn.

Peter swallowed almost imperceptibly, then looked at the others.

"I think it's up to us now," he announced. Without another word, they all looked back at Aslan's carving.

* * *

"Julia? Or do you prefer Lady Lightning?"

Tempestra turned around to see Queen Lucy sitting on the edge of the Stone Table, watching her. The little girl's voice had been teasing, but the young woman noticed the formal underlying tone; it was unsettling to hear it coming from a twelve-year-old with a British accent. It wasn't right for a little girl her age to be so proper.

"Tempestra's fine." She didn't bother with the titles anymore. The Pevensies – especially Peter – had made it clear that they were old friends and titles were not to be used among friends. Caspian had followed their lead, and all of them had dropped the formalities. At her request, they were all calling her Tempestra, but the Pevensies often slipped and used her real name, to her discomfort.

Lucy cocked her head to the side, child-like once more. Tempestra imagined her relearning all of the little movements and habits of children again, just to placate adults and convince them that she was truly acting her age.

"Do you think Aslan exists?"

Tempestra was speechless. After a faun lookout reported that a Telmarine soldier had spotted the How and ridden back to report the Narnians' whereabouts, High King Peter had summoned a full war conference. He, Caspian, Susan, and Edmund had left to gather the leaders of the Narnian group, leaving Tempestra and Lucy to wait in the room with the Stone Table. Somehow, despite her effort to settle into a comfortable silence, the young woman found herself being asked a loaded question by the youngest sibling of the royal family. Lucy had told her siblings that she had wanted to stay in the room with Tempestra; now she knew why.

"Well…" Tempestra looked up at the stone carving of the lion. "I don't know." The little red-headed girl was gazing at her, her eyes thoughtful but sharp. "I know some Narnians think he does," she continued carefully. "And I know they put their faith in him."

"But what about you?" Lucy persisted, leaning forward.

Tempestra folded her arms, wishing that the others would return soon. This wasn't exactly the kind of conversation that she wanted to have with a twelve-year-old stranger who chatted her up like they were best friends.

"I've never seen Aslan, and nobody else has for thousands of years," the young woman replied simply. "I need proof of something's existence in order to believe in it. Otherwise, I don't see it _existing_ as much as _living in the minds of many_."

A small frown furrowed Lucy's smooth brow.

"So to you, seeing is believing?" she asked.

Tempestra nodded, glancing back at the carving of Aslan on the stone wall.

"I don't like to put all my faith and hope into just an idea," she remarked quietly. "I've seen people using symbols as excuses to do terrible things. It's not really…practical."

The young woman looked back at Lucy to see the girl still watching her intently, and in a flash she saw it again: that wisdom and knowledge that came from years of growing up and maturing, not to mention ruling over a kingdom. It was disconcerting to see it in the eyes of a twelve-year-old. Then again, she reminded herself, Lucy was not just a twelve-year-old. In truth, she was a twenty-seven-year-old in a twelve-year-old's body. In Narnia, the girl had grown up to the age of twenty-six, returned to England as eleven, then spent a year there and returned to become twelve.

It wasn't right, Tempestra thought, feeling troubled. It wasn't natural. How could Lucy and the other Pevensies grow up to become adults, only to become young again and be treated as children? No wonder Peter had been so frustrated. He and his siblings had had their lives snatched away from them when they were in their prime.

Despite Tempestra's assertion about Aslan, Lucy was still smiling.

"Aslan and Narnia aren't about practicality," she remarked. "They're about belief. You say that Aslan is just a symbol and idea for people to believe in, but what else do people have besides their beliefs? Everyone needs something to believe in – something to inspire them." The little girl's tone became serious. "You've never seen Aslan, but that doesn't mean he isn't here. Perhaps _believing_ is _seeing_."

* * *

Only a half hour later, the rest of the Pevensies, Caspian, and the Narnian leaders were back in the Stone Table Room. High King Peter stood in the center of the room, the Narnians ranged in a circle around him. Their numbers included Glenstorm and several of his sons, Reepicheep and a few of his mice, Trufflehunter, Trumpkin, Nikabrik, another dwarf, the squirrel Pattertwig, Asterius (now a general) and two other minotaurs, Ferrah, a few fauns, a bear, and a tiger. Caspian stood a few feet away, Lucy still sat on the edge of the Stone Table, and Susan and Edmund were situated on opposite sides of the room, sitting on blocks of stone. Tempestra leaned inconspicuously against a half-crumbled pillar, her arms folded as she thoughtfully watched the room and its occupants.

"It's only a matter of time," Peter declared. "Miraz's men and war machines are on their way." The young man turned, looking around at them all. If he noticed Caspian's guarded look, he didn't let on. "That means those same men aren't protecting his castle."

Reepicheep, standing on one of the stone blocks, spoke up.

"What do you propose we do, Your Majesty?" he asked.

"We need running water-" Caspian began.

"We need to get ready for-" Peter said at the same time.

There was a moment of tension as the high king turned to look irritably at the Telmarine prince. Backing down, Caspian nodded resentfully and fell silent. Peter turned back to look around the room once again.

"Our only hope is to strike them before they strike us."

Caspian looked incredulous.

"But that's crazy! No one has ever taken that castle."

Peter gave a light shrug.

"There's always a first time," he replied contemptuously.

Meanwhile, Trumpkin was nodding resolutely.

"We'll have the element of surprise," he reminded them.

"But we have the advantage here," Caspian protested. To Tempestra's surprise, Susan got to her feet and went to stand behind the Telmarine prince.

"If we dig in, we could probably hold them off indefinitely," she suggested, looking from Caspian to Peter. Her brother shot her a displeased look, but the young woman just lifted her chin stubbornly.

"I, for one, feel safer underground," Trufflehunter remarked firmly. But Peter was already taking a step towards Caspian.

"Look," he said reassuringly, "I appreciate what you've done here, but this isn't a fortress – it's a tomb."

Edmund was already warming up to his brother's plan.

"Yes," he agreed, "and if they're smart, the Telmarines will just wait and starve us out."

"We could collect nuts!" Pattertwig declared excitedly.

Reepicheep, who was standing next to him, looked disgusted.

"Yes, and throw them at the Telmarines!" he commented sarcastically, throwing up his hands. Shooting a scornful look at the squirrel, he added scathingly, "Shut up." The mouse turned back at Peter. "I think you know where I stand on this, Sire."

There was a moment of uncertainty as the mouse's words sank in. In confirming where he stood on the matter, Reepicheep had forced them to all realize that they had to take sides: Caspian's or Peter's. Trufflehunter, Susan, and Pattertwig had already shown to be on Caspian's side; but Peter had Trumpkin, Reepicheep, and Edmund supporting him. Those three had more weight than Caspian's group. Still, there were a few loose ends – important players who had yet to throw in their lot with one of the young men.

"From my experience, I can tell you that staying here's just prolonging your defeat," Tempestra remarked casually. Everyone looked over at the young woman, who shrugged casually. "Where I come from, we have this saying: the best defense is a good offense." She looked over to meet Peter's gaze and held it steadily. The high king looked both relieved and triumphant. Prince Caspian's expression, on the other hand, was one of both annoyance and frustration. Ignoring him, Peter turned to Glenstorm, the last piece waiting to fall into place.

"If I can get your troops in, can you handle the guards?"

The centaur general glanced at Caspian, who was looking at him almost desperately. The prince knew that his chances of winning were growing slimmer by the second. If Glenstorm didn't support him…

"Or die trying, my liege." The centaur bowed his head, avoiding Caspian's gaze. They all knew that the balance of power had changed. The Telmarine prince was no longer the leader of the Narnians – Peter was. Caspian's fear had come true.

"That's what I'm worried about."

Everyone turned to Lucy, who had spoken up. Peter furrowed his brow.

"Sorry?"

Lucy looked from Peter to Caspian, her expression dismayed.

"Well, you're all acting like there are only two options: dying here, or dying there."

Peter shifted impatiently.

"I'm not sure you've really been listening, Lu."

"No, _you're_ not listening," the girl countered with a frown. "Or have you forgotten who _really_ defeated the White Witch, Peter?"

For a brief moment Tempestra stared at Lucy uncomprehendingly before her question sank in. It was Aslan who had killed the White Witch, she finally realized, remembering the Narnian story. Aslan had recued Peter when he was about to be killed by Jadis. But that Peter was very different than the one who stood before them now; he had been sixteen at the time, uncertain and fighting his first battle. Now, he was a high king with fifteen years of rule under his belt and no Aslan in sight.

He won't back down, Tempestra thought, watching the young man. He's dead set on proving that he can save Narnia himself this time.

She was right. Peter met his sister's gaze scornfully, his jaw set.

"I think we've waited for Aslan long enough," he retorted. Turning on his heel, he strode out of the room with a finality that ended the discussion.


	8. A Promise

**A/N: **In this chapter, we get a bit more into why Peter seemed to be so angry before the attack on Miraz's castle (it's not just teenage angst). Besides the psychological trauma that all of the Pevensies went through, he also took the near-annihilation of the Narnians personally, since he was high king.

This is another rewritten chapter, by the way.

* * *

After the war conference, the Pevensies and other Narnian leaders went to the rest of the Narnians to announce their plan and map out strategies for the invasion on Miraz's castle. When that was finished, they dispersed to prepare for their individual responsibilities. It wasn't until a few hours later could Tempestra finally find Peter unattached to a group of Narnians. Yet it wasn't as easy to find the high king as she had thought. Aslan's How boasted a network of tunnels which formed a veritable underground maze, steadily growing larger to accommodate the growing number of Narnians. It was difficult to find one person.

The sounds of clashing steel and shouted words alerted Tempestra to Peter's presence, and she quickened her pace down one of the many tunnels. As she rounded a bend, she saw the high king and a small centaur boy sparring. Peter's movements were slow and careful, and Tempestra crossed her arms and leaned against the side of the tunnel to watch.

"Good, now look for openings in my form!" Peter was telling the boy. Though his face looked tired, his voice was heartening. "Take advantage of it! Parry – thrust – don't forget to defend yourself!"

With a clatter, the centaur boy's small sword went flying when Peter disarmed him with a quick twist of the wrist. When the small boy picked up his sword, looking disappointed, the high king just smiled and ruffled his hair. "You'll improve as you get older," he told him encouragingly. His student walked off, brandishing his sword against invisible foes, and Peter sheathed his sword and turned to look at Tempestra.

"One of my duties," he commented offhandedly, referring to his swordfighting lesson. "It comes with the crown." Unconsciously, he mirrored Tempestra's folded arms. "Are you all right?"

"Why were you so against waiting for Aslan?"

Tempestra's question was as direct as a straight punch to the chest, and Peter blinked in surprise.

"Well, it's like you said," he replied, keeping his voice even. "We can't wait forever for him to come save us; the Telmarines will overwhelm us far before that."

Tempestra shook her head.

"Don't get me wrong," she remarked, "I understand why you don't want to. But you're not answering my question. _Why were you so against waiting for him?_"

She met Peter's eyes evenly, refusing to look away. The high king clenched and unclenched his jaw imperceptibly, and when she continued to stare him down, he sighed and looked away.

"You could always see through me," he said ruefully. When Tempestra continued to glare at him, he finally burst out, "I don't trust him, all right?"

"Caspian or Aslan?"

"Both, I suppose." Peter shifted his stance tensely. "Caspian because, well, he's Telmarine and inexperienced. Aslan because of what he hasn't done."

Tempestra's brows furrowed.

"'Hasn't done?'" she repeated.

Peter sighed again and unfolded his arms to run a hand distractedly through his hair.

"Look, Aslan truly did defeat the White Witch in the Battle of the Beruna, right?" He didn't wait for her answer and went on, "He was the one who saved us. He's the one who's always supposed to save us, to come when we call him for help. But where was he when we fell back into England?" The youth's hands clenched, and he raised one forearm to slam against the tunnel wall. "Where was he when we couldn't get back to Narnia? Where was he when the Telmarines invaded and took over? Where was he when the Narnians were slaughtered? _Where was he_?"

Peter punctuated each demand with a thump against the wall as Tempestra watched somberly. The high king fell silent and exhaled slowly, then leaned his forehead against his arm. He closed his eyes.

"I've heard what happened when we were gone," he said quietly. "I saw the ruins of Cair Paravel. I see the How, a fallen structure once dedicated to a symbol of hope. I see the pain in the Narnians' eyes. I see what they've endured for generations. I see them, and I wonder, 'If Aslan is here to save us all, why didn't he save them?'"

Tempestra gazed at him with a mixture of sadness and pity. To witness the remnants of an entire kingdom that he had once loved and ruled…

"You're blaming him for all of it."

Peter lifted his head to look at her.

"Yes, I do. Why should we wait for the great lion, when he didn't come to our aid when we needed him the most?"

She couldn't argue with that, not when she had been wondering the same thing ever since she'd heard the history of Narnia. She knew that the Narnians, those who had stopped believing in Aslan and the Pevensies, wondered the same thing. The foundations of their beliefs had been broken hundreds of years ago, and their spirits had been crushed. Peter had seen this and vowed to liberate the Narnians. She couldn't blame him for losing hope in Aslan. All he could do now was march ahead and fight with what little time and power they had.

What was she doing here, fighting a war that she had no personal involvement in? If most of the Narnians and Pevensies doubted that Aslan would appear, why stay and help?

_Peter_, she thought. He was fighting a losing battle, and yet he still fought on. He, the Pevensies, and the Narnians were outnumbered and outclassed, and yet here he was, risking his life to protect his people and regain their freedom. She knew what it was like to be the underdog and have all the weights stacked against her, and she could never resist defending others in the same situation. The Narnians had a good and just cause.

And they needed the help badly.

Tempestra swallowed.

"Peter." The young man, whose gaze had fallen to the ground, looked back at her. "Even if Aslan doesn't come…I'll still be here." She braced herself against the enormous weight of her words, and added, "I promise."

Peter gave her a small smile.

"Thank you," he said gratefully. He studied her thoughtfully, the emotional moment forgotten. "You know…you're more yourself now."

Tempestra raised her eyebrows doubtfully.

"You don't know what I'm like."

Peter gave her a crooked smile.

"I know you wear your hair up when you go into battle," he retorted, "you have a birthmark on your lower back, and your left shoulder is weaker because of an old arrow wound-"

"I've never had an arrow wound in my shoulder," Tempestra interjected.

"-I know you're stubborn and you don't like admitting when you're wrong, you're afraid of drowning, you're distrustful-" "Okay, I get it." "-but you're also clever, and honest, and forgiving," Peter finished, "and I would give the world for things to be the way they were."

His voice lowered at the last statement, and his gaze held hers steadily. He was less than an arms-length away from her, with only her folded arms between them. The look in his eyes was painfully compassionate, and Tempestra – realizing that she was holding her breath – felt her face flush. For a moment, the air felt charged, and her heart thudded audibly in her ears.

"Peter?"

The two of them sprang apart and looked around to see Edmund standing at the other end of the tunnel, his expression entirely unsurprised at their positions. "Trumpkin has a question about his part of the plan," the youth said, looking between them. "Could you…?"

Peter straightened.

"Uh, yes. I'll talk to him." He followed his brother out of the tunnel, but not before glancing back at Tempestra first, his face just as flushed as hers. It wasn't until she felt her face cool down once again did Tempestra finally steel herself and join the others.

* * *

Most of the Narnians were in the largest area near the entrance to the How, crouched near fires. Some sharpened weapons or blackened them with soot to prevent their shining blades from reflecting light. Still others went over the details of the plan, or put in some last-minute combat practice. Tension could be seen in the lines between their furrowed eyebrows, and in their stiff movements.

Queen Susan sat apart from the rest. Unlike the others, she was seated comfortably next to a fire while in the tedious process of making arrows. The Narnians already had a large supply ready, but Susan had a more unique and refined quiver; her arrows were made from dark red wood, fletched with dyed red feathers, wrapped with gold-colored thread, and set with metal arrow heads that gleamed in the firelight. The materials were scattered in piles on the ground around the young queen, whose head was bent close to the fire, her hands patient and precise.

Without hesitation, Tempestra approached and sat beside Susan, where she watched the young woman at work for a moment.

"Need a hand?"

Eyes still on her handiwork, Susan smiled gratefully.

"Actually, yes," she replied. Pausing, she pointed to a spool of thread next to a few long strands. "I'm running a bit low - can you cut more?"

As Tempestra began to measure and cut more thread, Susan said slowly, "You know…there's a reason why the Narnians call me Queen Susan the Gentle." When Tempestra glanced up, the queen continued, "It's not because I don't fight, but because I always know when to pick my fights. When there's a threat, Peter's first instinct is to get up and attack first; mine is to calm down and think rationally."

Tempestra lowered her tools.

"Are you talking about how you didn't support the siege?" she asked bluntly, and Susan nodded, her eyes still on the thread that she was using to secure an arrowhead.

"I was thinking about our safety."

"And I was thinking about the bigger picture," Tempestra retorted. She began cutting thread again. "Does this mean you're not going to help?"

Susan pursed her lips.

"It's been decided," she replied with a shrug, "so of course I'll go along with it. I'm ready – are you?"

Tempestra glanced at her.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

With one last tight knot, Susan finished tying the arrowhead in place and began fletching the arrow with feathers.

"I don't think you've decided whether you're really with us or not." Ignoring Tempestra's stare, she held the feathers in place and waited for the glue to set. "You use a sword," she remarked, "But you're not using it for what it was made for."

"Which is?" Tempestra asked.

"To kill," Susan said simply. She calmly placed her finished arrow on top of the pile stacked next to her quiver, and reached for the next one as her companion started cutting thread once more.

"I'm not a killer," Tempestra told her firmly. "That's not what I was trained for."

Susan shrugged.

"When you wield a sword, you take on the knowledge that you will kill someone; you shoulder the responsibility for those consequences. There can't be any indecision."

Tempestra looked at her sharply.

"You know that using a sword is the best chance I have to survive a fight."

"Surviving a fight isn't about defending yourself," Susan replied. With a dagger, she carved out notches on the ends of a branch. "It's about defeating your opponent. When the time comes, you won't have time to worry about keeping the enemy alive." She finally glanced up. "Are you ready for that?"

The other young woman was saved the chance to reply when Caspian strode over.

"What were you doing?" he demanded without preamble. Surprised, Tempestra glanced up. The stormy expression on the prince's face was enough to make her set down her tools and get to her feet. Though Caspian could barely contain his fury, his voice was low. "I thought you said you would stand by me, but you sided with High King Peter. What happened?"

As Susan listened warily, Tempestra narrowed her eyes at the prince's accusing tone.

"This isn't about siding with anyone," she retorted. "It's about choosing the rational plan of action. I decided that Peter's idea was more rational, so I said so."

"You're backstabbing me," Caspian snapped, his voice rising, and Tempestra folded her arms defiantly.

"When did this become a personal fight between you and Peter?" she asked scornfully. "Because I thought it was between the Narnians and the Telmarines." Susan was now on her feet as well, moving to shield the argument from the Narnians' curious gazes. Caspian's jaw was clenched, his voice no longer at a murmur.

"Just because you used to sleep with him," he retorted, "doesn't mean you have to take his side now."

"Caspian!" Susan looked indignant. Tempestra's expression, on the other hand, was stony as she matched the prince's furious gaze.

"I think you have me confused for someone who gives a shit what you're saying," she told him coldly, and Caspian's lips twisted in disgust.

"You're not her," he said contemptuously. "You're not who they said you would be."

Tempestra raised her eyebrows challengingly.

"I'm glad we can agree on something, then."

Susan shouldered her way between them, glancing over her shoulder at the rest of the room. Although their position at the edge of the room gave them a degree of privacy, their rising voices had made some Narnians look over.

"Let it go, both of you," the young queen ordered. "We have a siege to do soon, and we have to work together smoothly."

Physically separated by Susan, Tempestra and Caspian stepped away. After a tense few seconds of glaring at each other, they bit back their words and stalked away in opposite directions, leaving a weary Susan to pick up the pieces.

* * *

**A/N: **The attack is next! It's going to be a long chapter.


	9. Attack

**A/N:** So since I just started college, I've been crazy busy and unable to work on the crossover. Luckily, I haven't finished posting everything I've already written! So here's the next chapter, and I've got another one before I have to start writing again. Hopefully I'll get more time?

**Disclaimer:** Wild horses could not get me to claim that I own the Chronicles of Narnia and Teen Titans Go! universes. Well, maybe.

* * *

**Miraz's Castle**

**Air Space**

A coffee, Tempestra reflected, would have been extremely useful at that moment – preferably a highly caffeinated one. Or an energy drink, though she wasn't a fan of those; the inevitable crash left her uncomfortably weak. At the moment, though, any kind of supplemental energy would have been handy. It had been such an exhausting day; Tempestra had met her legendary fiancé, entered an ancient fort, then fought over war strategy. Now she was leading a large-scale attack against a fortified castle.

It was nearly midnight, the sky pitch-black and studded with stars. Flying on her wind platform, the vigilante was high enough in the air to pass through the occasional low cloud. Whenever that happened, Tempestra and the Narnians flying alongside her braced themselves against the chill and continued on. It was necessary to fly at a high altitude; any lower and they ran the risk of being spotted from the ground.

And that was the last thing they wanted at that moment.

Edmund had flown in with a gryphon, Filius, before the rest of the air army (as Tempestra liked to call them). His job was to take out the tower guard nearest to the gate, then signal the air army and ground army (which was waiting at the edge of the forest) to approach.

Sure enough, a second after Tempestra glimpsed the stone towers of Miraz's castle, a bright ray of light flickered on and off from out of the dark. It had been Tempestra's idea to use Edmund's flashlight (or torch, as the Pevensies called it) as a signaling device. At the signal, the air army advanced towards the castle, descending steadily at the same time. Below, the ground army quietly made their way past the town gate and towards the castle, where they would wait behind a wall for the next signal to charge across the drawbridge.

Tempestra slowly unsheathed her twin long knives. Holding them ready, she took a deep breath to steady her nerves and collect her energy as the four of them descended towards one of the castle towers. As they passed another and a Telmarine guard turned and saw them, Caspian used his unsheathed sword to cut him down quickly and quietly. A few seconds later, they were facing the back of two tower guards, one of which seemed to have spotted Edmund and was currently aiming a crossbow at his back.

The vigilante didn't dare open her mouth to call a warning to Edmund, and a second later, she found that she didn't have to. With a taut twang, Susan loosed an arrow at the guard's back, and the Telmarine collapsed onto the ground. The other guard whirled around at the sound of the released bow, only to be cut down by Peter as the High King, Queen, and Prince landed on the battlement and broke into a run. Unburdened by the humans, the gryphons flew away to sweep the castle's air space and memorize the layout. If anything was to happen, they would alert the Narnian leaders.

Instead of following the gryphons or even the royal leaders, Tempestra flew over the battlement and towards the large courtyard beyond the large iron gate. Following Caspian's previous instructions, the vigilante landed at the top of a flight of stone stairs, then hurried inside the castle and down a corridor. Her part in the plan was to prevent as many soldiers as possible from waking up to attack the invading Narnians.

Two left turns and a right turn later, Tempestra was standing at the end of a corridor lined with wooden doors. Behind them, Telmarine soldiers slept peacefully in their barracks. It was the work of ten minutes to wedge wooden window shutters in the spaces between the doors and the stone doorframes, then use tables found in the corridor to barricade the doors from the outside. With any luck, by the time the soldiers woke up and broke out, the Narnians would have killed Miraz and taken the castle.

Of course, that depended on the other parts of the plan working. Susan and Peter had to kill Miraz then help Caspian open the iron gate, and Tempestra had to go to the gatehouse to help Asterius (now a general) and a few other Narnians open the drawbridge. Once the gate was open and the drawbridge lowered, Edmund would be able to signal the ground troops to charge into the castle. So much of the plan depended on perfect timing, and so much of it could collapse if something went wrong. It was a good thing only the leaders knew the full plan; if the regular Narnians knew the plan in its entirety, they might have opposed it because it was so perilous.

Tempestra sprinted down several corridors, her route fresh in her mind. Her next destination was the gatehouse. If the plan was going smoothly, then she would meet Reepicheep and some of his mice, who were supposed to have unlocked the gatehouse and killed the guards with Trumpkin's help. The vigilante breathed evenly, her eyes focused. Her boots, thick-soled but comfortable, made her footsteps swift and silent. Secrecy and quiet were key. So far, she hadn't met any obstacles, and the lack of commotion proved that the others hadn't either. The plan just might work.

Then all hell broke loose.

BONG. BONG. BONG. BONG.

At the thunderous sound of the bells tolling to warn the castle of an attack, Tempestra skidded to a halt, cursing under her breath. Somehow, the Telmarines had found them out. The element of surprise was gone, and the gate _and_ drawbridge might not even have been opened. Despair dragged down at the vigilante's heart. They couldn't make it. They had to call off the attack.

"HEY!"

Whirling around at the shout, Tempestra spotted four Telmarine soldiers heading down the corridor, fully armed with swords and dressed in hard leather tunics over chain mail armor. They made a break for her, uncertainty making them hesitant to attack her more forcefully. They certainly did not expect a young woman in a short skirt to be storming their castle. They didn't think that she could prove to be dangerous.

_And that's where you're wrong_, Tempestra thought coldly, drawing out her two long knives, which the Narnians called 'dirks'. She would not show them any pity, no matter how much they underestimated her. Without the customary war cry, the young woman pointed one weapon at the nearest Telmarine soldier, who ran towards her unflinchingly. A burst of energy, and a lightning bolt ran down the length of the dirk and from the tip, shooting through the air to collide with the soldier. The impact threw him off his feet and the electricity overrode his nerves, leaving him motionless on the ground. He would stay in that position for at least a half hour, and would never move properly again.

The other soldiers looked both horrified and enraged. Obviously, they thought she was some kind of witch. They thundered over to Tempestra, who coolly shot another soldier with a bolt of lightning. The third Telmarine gave a bellow and swung his sword at the vigilante's neck, only to miss and collapse when Tempestra ducked and slammed the hilt of her dirks at his head twice, once to knock off his helmet and another to knock him unconscious. The last soldier chopped down at the young woman, who danced out of his way and broke both of his wrists with blows from the hilts of her weapons. When the Telmarine fell to his knees, howling in pain, Tempestra pinched one of the man's nerve clusters at the back of his neck. He dropped like a stone.

The tolling of the bells had stopped, but there was another sound that filled the air: the shouts and cries of battling and wounded men. The Narnian troops had finally arrived. Tempestra changed direction and headed for the courtyard, where the battle was taking place. They needed her more there than at the gatehouse. After all, if the Narnians had reached the courtyard, then it meant the drawbridge had already been opened.

Arriving at the edge of the courtyard, Tempestra skidded to a halt and surveyed the scene. The courtyard was in chaos. Everywhere Telmarine soldiers fought Narnian rebels, their armor and organization making them equal to the ferocity and passion of the oppressed Narnians. Peter, Caspian, Glenstorm, and Susan were worth three of any Telmarine or Narnian, cutting through the crowd like scythes in a wheat field. Edmund was nowhere to be seen. The Telmarines outnumbered the Narnians three to one, and more were trickling out of the castle to enter the fray. Someone must have released the trapped soldiers from their barracks. So much for hindering them.

Tempestra exploded onto the scene, felling three Telmarine soldiers with lightning before they even realized she was there. The nearby fighters on both sides finally noticed her, the Narnian ones giving ragged cheers at the inspiring sight. The Telmarines, for their part, turned their attention to her and began attacking her in earnest. Fortunately, this took the pressure off of the Narnians nearby, who took advantage of the distraction.

It was ironic, Tempestra thought wryly, that the Telmarines wore so much metal. Her lightning bolts spread more quickly across the soldiers because of their chain mail, and one shot to the helmets instantly knocked them out. Still, the young woman made sure not to inflict any fatal injuries. Her most effective safe attacks were lightning bolts, broken wrists and noses, knife hilt blows, and lightning-powered punches. Her lack of armor or stiff leather allowed her freedom of movement that the Telmarines didn't have, and she used it fully as she flipped, leaped, and danced around the frustrated Telmarine soldiers. The entire time, Tempestra was aware of Peter's gaze upon her as he kept an eye out for her. It was sweet, but unnecessary. She was holding her own very nicely.

Then, when it seemed like the Narnians were turning the tide, things started going horribly wrong.

At the sound of crashing behind her, Tempestra whirled around to see the gate's counterweight on the ground. The gate itself began to close, only – to the vigilante's horror – to be stopped by Asterius, who ran under the iron lattice and caught it midway. With a roar and a surge of strength, the minotaur raised the gate above his head, keeping the Narnians' only exit open. He was the Narnians' last chance for a way out, yet even as Tempestra watched, several Telmarine soldiers ran towards him, bent on keeping the gate closed. Tempestra was all the way on the other side of the courtyard, too far to help.

Anger was beginning to join the adrenaline that pulsed through Tempestra's veins, making her attacks more savage as she made her way over to defend Asterius' noble feat. One Telmarine soldier collapsed with his left hamstring slashed, and another sank onto the ground with a broken collar-bone and nose. The vigilante drove her dirk through one Telmarine's left shoulder, turned to crescent kick another soldier in the neck, then blasted another one three feet back with a burst of lightning. She had never been in such an infuriatingly hopeless situation. Telmarine soldiers were still streaming in from all directions, Telmarine crossbows were mobilizing to pick the Narnians off, and a quick glance told her that Miraz was standing on his stupid balcony, watching everything as ifthe battle was some action flick on TV.

"Fall back!" Peter's voice ran out over the noise of the battle. "Retreat!"

Finally. Tempestra booted a Telmarine out of the way and blinded another with a slash to his forehead as she battled her way towards the gate, stopping only to help other Narnians and order them to retreat. The Telmarine crowd was thinning, but she and the Narnians was far from being out of danger. From the corner of her eye, Tempestra saw Glenstorm swing Susan onto his back and gallop out of the courtyard. One Narnian leader out, three more to go. She didn't even attempt to fathom where Edmund was and whether he was alive. The young king was resourceful, and he had Filius to get him out of a scrape. She, Peter, and Caspian, on the other hand – the only way out was through the iron gate, which was halfway closed. Moreover, Caspian was nowhere to be seen. Had he tried escaping through another way? Maybe surrendered or switched sides in order to save his neck?

Tempestra savagely backhanded the Telmarine soldier in front of her, then looked around at the sound of doors opening and the clatter of hooves on stone. Caspian charged out of a set of large double doors, riding a black horse and leading a brown one by the reins. An old fat man with a long white beard and spectacles rode beside him. Caspian rode to the center of the courtyard, where he and the old man stopped to look up at Miraz, who was standing with General Glozelle on the balcony. The general had his hand raised, holding off his archers. However, he seemed to be debating with Miraz. Caspian tore his gaze from his uncle, then scanned the area. When he spotted Peter, the Telmarine prince nodded urgently to the riderless horse beside him.

In a flash, Tempestra understood. General Glozelle was keeping his archers from shooting down into the courtyard, yet Miraz was demanding it. He knew that if the archers were able to shoot the Narnian leaders, or even kill Asterius to close the gate and keep everyone inside, Peter and Caspian were done for. Though he also must have known that shooting wildly into the courtyard gave way to the chance that his own soldiers in the courtyard would be shot as well, Miraz didn't seem to have any qualms with that.

Caspian knew it. He knew it, which was why he had stolen the three horses for himself, the old man, and Peter. Tempestra felt a flare of fury, which she vented out on an attacking soldier by kicking him in the groin and delivering a roundhouse kick to his head when he dropped to his knees. Caspian had assumed that she would be able to escape from the courtyard because of her powers. He assumed that she could just fly out. Of course, he hadn't considered the fact that she would be picked off quickly by the archers, or that if she tried hiding behind a lightning shield, stray arrows could glance off the surface and possibly kill a Narnian below just from the combination of its initial velocity and gravity during the fall. An air escape out of the courtyard was not an option. She had to either run or ride out. And since Caspian was not kind enough to get _her_ a horse, the vigilante would have to run. But with Telmarine soldiers targeting her specifically, and Miraz ready to give the order to shooting everyone and everything, Tempestra seriously doubted that she'd be able to get out.

Was she seriously going to die in Narnia?

That thought spurred her on. Drawing up a stream of her power, the young woman spun on one foot, both weapons extended out by her sides and shooting lightning. The result was that the five Telmarine soldiers around her were thrown back four feet, landing hard on the ground and winded. Tempestra took advantage of the brief reprieve to dart towards the gate, leaping over the bodies of Narnians and Telmarines alike. Ahead of her, Asterius buckled slightly, an arrow suddenly protruding from his right leg. The Telmarine archers had begun raining arrows down on them. Tempestra skidded to a halt and turned in order to concentrate on shooting arrows out of the air. Slowly, she began backing up towards Asterius.

"Tempestra!"

The vigilante looked left to see Peter on his horse and thundering in her direction, his left hand extended towards her. He, at least, knew her dire situation and was willing to help. Relief flooded through Tempestra, who glanced back at the gate to check that it was still open. As she looked, however, something caught her attention.

On the battlement above the gate, a lone Telmarine armed with a crossbow was kneeling, his weapon steady as he aimed down at one target in particular: Peter. The High King's attention was on Tempestra alone, and he was completely oblivious to the danger he was in. He was only seconds away from her. If Tempestra took the time to shoot the Telmarine archer, she'd miss the chance to take Peter's hand and escape. But if she ignored the archer and mounted up behind Peter, the High King would be shot, perhaps fatally. Sweat trickled down Tempestra's face as her mind raced, bouncing between her available options. In a flash, she made her decision, and the next second, as Peter bore down on her, the vigilante made her move.

Time seemed to slow down.

Peter's left hand swung down towards Tempestra, but instead of grabbing it and swinging herself up behind the High King, the young woman ignored it. Before Peter knew what was happening, the vigilante stuck her right foot in the left stirrup and pushed. Grabbing the saddle horn with both hands, she hoisted herself up and swung her left leg over the horse's back so that she was facing backwards, but face to face with Peter. Because of this, the High King saw her expression clearly a moment later, when everything went from bad to worse.

* * *

Peter had no idea what was going on. One second, he was riding towards Tempestra, lending a hand and expecting her to mount on the horse behind him; the next second, a steely look had crossed her face and she'd mounted up _in front_ of him. And then the next second…Peter had just realized that Tempestra had mounted backwards when the young woman suddenly jerked forward with a sharp gasp, almost falling onto him. Both teenagers looked down at the flash of movement at the corner of their eyes, and both saw the bloody arrowhead protruding from the vigilante's chest directly across from the High King's heart. Something began to plummet in Peter's own chest as he met Tempestra's gaze, the horrified expression in his blue eyes mirrored in her agonized violet ones.

"Julia."

And suddenly they were exploding out of the courtyard, the thunder of hooves clashing with the screams of anguish behind them. There was one primal roar that rang out the strongest, before General Asterius surrendered to the five arrows buried in his body.

* * *

Collapsed against Peter and facing backwards on the horse, black beginning to fog the edges of her vision, Julia witnessed Asterius collapse on the ground, the iron gate falling to break his back and bar the remaining Narnians from escaping. From her position, the young woman watched helplessly as the group of Narnian fighters pressed against the gate, crying for help. Several attempted to climb the lattice, only to be felled by Telmarine arrows. A quarter of their warriors were trapped in there.

Peter had halted before the drawbridge, looking over his shoulder at the Narnians, his face obscured from her view. Yet the vigilante knew from his racing heart and strained breathing that a thousand conflicting thoughts were racing through his head, and none seemed to come to a satisfactory solution.

Over Peter's shoulder, Julia wordlessly met the eyes of each of the trapped Narnians, her gaze alone conveying her pain and sympathy. The last Narnian she looked to was Rainstone, one of Glenstorm's sons. He, of all the Narnians, was the only one who wasn't panicking or attempting to break open the gate. His eyes were calm; he had resigned himself to his inevitable fate. His eyes met Julia's and the young woman drew up her strength to give him one last thing: courage.

Julia took a shallow breath and whispered one word.

"Death."

The centaur could not hear her whisper over the shouts around him, but he could read her lips. He gave a somber nod as Peter shot a desperate look between Glenstorm and the Narnians. Rainstone knew that he and the Narnians could not think that they were being left behind. They could not think, for one moment, that they had been deserted and left to die, or else they would have no courage – no glorious death that legends would speak of in years to come. They had to face the enemy with passion and fury, face their fate with pride, and face the end knowing that it was not a waste for their lives to end there – it was an honor.

"Death."

It was a quiet word, but determined. It was the word Rainstone murmured as he turned away from the gate, it was the call that rallied the remaining Narnians to continue their fight against the overwhelming tide of Telmarines, and it was the battle cry on their lips as the Narnians met their inevitable fate with powerful courage. The courtyard rang with the roar.

Death.

* * *

Peter had not felt this kind of fear for a long time. The last time, his brother's life had hung in the balance and an evil witch was in control. Now it was not his brother's life that was endangered, but his friend's. No, not just his friend; she was his confidante, his betrothed, and – as much as she insisted that they merely be allies – always his queen. Peter clutched Julia to his chest as he galloped out of the town, feeling the tip of the arrowhead pressing against his own chest like an insistent reminder of his failure. No, not _his_ failure. It wasn't his fault.

The High King shook off the fury that simmered just below the layer of ice around his heart. He would have time for that later. Right now, he had a more pressing problem. Peter heard the flap of heavy wings above his head and looked over his shoulder to see Edmund and Filius, who had just flown over the courtyard. Both had haunted looks in their eyes. Then Edmund saw Julia, and the shock registered on his face.

"Is she…?"

Peter just shook his head and gestured towards the forest. As far as he knew, nobody was pursuing them; but just to be safe, he didn't want to do or say anything until they were under the cover of the trees. It just about killed him, leaving Julia untreated and in pain, but as long as he didn't look at her drained face, and as long as he blocked out the sound of her painful gasps, he could wait until they made it to the forest. He had to.

* * *

**A/N:** So on that cheerful note...thanks to everyone who's still been reading my story! I didn't check this account for a few weeks, and was surprised and delighted to see that people were still reading my stories! Thanks!


	10. A Dream

**A/N: **Last chapter before I start writing again! I expect it'll take some time because of my busy schedule (and the fact that I'm sick), but I'll work on it. Also, a shout-out to **wicca in training** and **StargazingDragon** for writing reviews. Thanks, guys!

**Disclaimer:** No matter how many times I wish it were so, I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia or Teen Titans Go! universes.

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Narnian Forest

**Across the Beruna River**

_She was sitting in that uncomfortable metal chair, her wrists handcuffed to the matching steel table in front of her. A two-way mirror covered most of the wall across from her, a metal door covering the rest. The three other walls were the same metallic material. She'd been here once before, years ago. It was the Interrogation Room at Titans Tower. Like last time, Robin stood opposite her on the other side of the table, his hands on the surface. He was scowling as usual._

"_Julia Keating," he began in a low voice, "do you or do you not admit to being a murderer?"_

_She felt her heart thump uncomfortably in her chest. Not this again. Not this._

"_No," she replied, as she did every time. "I didn't murder anyone."_

_The Boy Wonder raised his eyebrows._

"_I don't think they would agree."_

_Like every time, three figures materialized in front of her, each of them standing on the other side of the table: Aphrodite, looking contemptuous as she almost posed; Frostbite, who sneered and folded his arms; and Roger, who looked tired as he smiled sadly at her. Her two enemies and her adopted brother. No – she was the one who was adopted._

_Robin didn't even glance at the three arrivals as he asked, "Would any of the victims like to speak?"_

_This was the part where she would decide it was time to leave. Usually, at this point, she would remember that Aphrodite, Frostbite, and Roger had died and were still dead, and she would realize that this couldn't be real; it was a dream. Usually, at this point, she would attempt to leave the dream by concentrating on screaming as loudly as she could. But when she tried it this time, she only ended up with dazed confusion and light-headedness. She was still in the dream._

_That was when the fear started._

"_Let her go." That was Roger. "This isn't some twisted trial."_

"_She's fine." Suddenly Peter, of all people, was on her other side, looking at Roger scornfully. "Julia doesn't need to be pampered. Did you know she was almost a queen?"_

"_She's a thief, first and foremost," argued Damien, who appeared standing next to Julia. He was dressed in his Red X thief costume, but with his mask off – something he would never do around anyone except her. "Not one of your make-pretend puppets."_

"_If we're putting in our opinions here," Robin cut in, "Julia should be a superhero. She has so much potential."_

"_Does she have to be any of those things?" Roger demanded, gesturing at Julia. "She's just a teenager. A young woman, who should have a normal life with normal experiences. And normal friends," he added as an afterthought._

"_Well whoever and whatever she is," Aphrodite commented, inspecting her nails disinterestedly, "She's just a nobody."_

_Frostbite shook his head._

"_Murderer."_

"_Thief."_

"_Superhero."_

"_Queen."_

"_Teenager."_

"_Nobody."_

"_Don't I get a say in what I want to be?" Everyone turned to look at Julia, who had risen out of her chair furiously. She glared at them all, her face flushed. "I'm the one who gets to control who I want to be. I don't need all of you to do that."_

"_Clearly," Damien remarked dryly, putting his hands in his pockets and leaning back on his heels. Next to him, Roger sighed as the rest of the group merely shook their heads or smirked condescendingly. "Clearly," the thief continued, "you know who you want to be so much that you can't come up with a reason why you're still where you are."_

"_You don't know whether you're with me or without me," Peter added, folding his arms._

"_You don't know whose side you're fighting for, and why," Damien completed. "For someone who likes action, you sure are indecisive."_

"_For someone who hates to regret, you have a lot to regret," Robin told her._

"_Come to terms with your past," Roger put in. "Then decide on your future."_

"_I don't need to make a decision!" Julia insisted. "I'm fine. I'm-"_

"_-dying," Damien finished softly. "You're dying, Julia."_

"_What?"_

_For a moment, Julia stood there in shock. Sometime during the debate, Aphrodite and Frostbite had disappeared. Now it was just Robin, Damien, Roger, and Peter. They were all looking at her somberly, pitying her for what she couldn't control. The single light bulb swung from the ceiling, changing the shadows with each swing._

"_You're dying from an arrow wound," Peter said quietly. Looking at him, Julia saw that his eyes were rimmed red. "But you're not dead yet."_

"_Narnian magic-" Roger began hopefully._

"_What Narnian magic?" Damien demanded, looking at his former friend. He threw up his hands in frustration "Goddammit, they're all straight from the Medieval Age! They don't have magic. Why else would they look up to her?"_

"_You're a hero to them," Robin explained to Julia. "A leader. You can't let them down."_

"_Prevent another massacre like the one at Miraz's castle," Peter said. "So many Narnians died. We can't take another hit like that."_

"_That wasn't my fault!" Julia snapped. "I didn't ask to be a leader, or a hero, or whatever you Narnians wanted me to be. I just want to go home._

"_I just want to live."_

* * *

"How is she?"

Peter glanced to his left to see Edmund sitting on Filius' back. The gryphon was keeping up with Peter's horse, who was silently trotting at the front of the train of defeated Narnians heading back to Aslan's How. Caspian and the old man – his former professor – were near the back of the group. Susan was somewhere in the middle, resting on Glenstorm's back.

"Not too good," the High King replied finally, looking back at Julia. He smoothed a sweat-soaked lock of hair from her forehead. With his other arm, he held her sideways against him. "I removed the arrow and bound the wound, but she's losing a lot of blood."

"Lucky the arrow missed her heart," Edmund mused. "But she needs Lucy."

"I know." Peter forced himself to relax his jaw, which he'd been gritting the entire ride. "But she has to be alive for the cordial to work. If we just moved the group faster-"

"She's not the only wounded person we have," Edmund interjected sharply. "Trumpkin's in a worse condition, and the rest of the army's dead tired. We can't speed up the group just for Julia."

Peter closed his eyes, inwardly berating himself.

"I know. And I need to stay with the rest of the group because they need me." He didn't need to look to know that Edmund was nodding. Selfless Edmund. He always knew what monarchs had to do, and he stuck to it. Sometimes – rarely, but sometimes – Peter wished that the heavy responsibilities of High King were burdening someone else. Julia had always made those burdens seem a little less oppressive. Yet it was one of these very burdens that was keeping him from saving her life.

* * *

**Narnian Forest**

**Julia's Mind**

_It was an airport, of that much she was certain. The rows of seats, the little shops selling souvenirs and newspapers, the large glass windows – she hadn't been to many airports, but she knew one when she saw one. The only difference to the airports she'd been to was that this one was pure white and completely clean, devoid of any shadows to hide in. Moreover, the people never interacted with each other. There was no airport staff to deal with the passengers, and every person walked straight forward without a glance at their surroundings. Even the children – and there weren't that many – stared straight ahead, instead of running around excitedly. Nobody sat in the seats or lounged around; they were all heading somewhere, sticking to the tiled path in the center of the airport._

_It was eerie._

_She took in everything without consciously doing so, somehow accepting it all without surprise. Rising from her seat – she was the only one sitting – she slowly walked over to the glass windows covering most of the walls. Everything was hazy outside, but she could make out the cement-covered ground. There was nothing on it – no people to direct movements, no baggage vehicles, and most of all, no airplanes. Only empty cement, the only non-white surface in that setting. Even then, it was only a dull gray color. Empty._

_Not quite._

_A figure shrouded in white fog was making its way towards the airport, but the figure was not humanoid. As it came closer, it became darker and clearer, eventually revealing itself to be some kind of animal on all fours. It walked forward slowly and majestically, until she could see what it truly was: a golden lion. A large one, too, with unusually shiny gold fur and yellow eyes that lifted to stare right at her. She stared right back, completely unsurprised that a large lion had suddenly appeared on the ground and was looking at her intelligently._

Julia Keating of Jump City.

_The voice echoed in her mind, deep and somber, but she knew it was the lion's voice. Who else could it be?_

Julia Keating, do not lose your faith.

_Faith? she thought skeptically. Faith in what?_

_The lion apparently did not deem her question worthy enough to be answered. He merely looked deep into her eyes, as if trying to send her mind more than a few sentences._

Life as you know it is already gone_, the lion told her. _But your part in this has not ended.

_She hated vague responses that told her nothing outright. But before she could come up with some kind of snappy remark – and she wasn't sure that she could come up with something like that to say to a lion, of all things – she felt herself being pulled. Not backwards, but away. The airport began to vanish before her eyes as it dissolved into white fog. The last thing that she saw was the majestic lion standing on the tarmac, gazing at her._

_Then she was gone._


	11. Revival

**A/N:** To say that I've been busy would be an understatement. This is my first semester in college, so I've been busy balancing my schedule and working everything out. Fortunately, I came back to my love of writing recently and finished up the latest chapter, even though it's pretty short. Still, there's more to come!

**Disclaimer:** Teen Titans GO! and the Chronicles of Narnia universe come with a lot of baggage...I'd still own them, but I don't.

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Narnian Forest

**Outside of Aslan's How**

The ragtag line of soldiers that made its way to Aslan's How had all the markings of a defeated army - heads down, silent, slowly slogging across the grass. Even the sound of the horn above them did not make them stir. Only when the small group of Narnians - including Glenstorm's wife - streamed out of the How did they look up tiredly, their faces projecting nothing but misery.

Lucy was one of the last to run out. At the sight of the bereft faces, she stopped short, her anxious expression falling into worry. Peter, trudging at the front of the group, saw Lucy first. Eyes on the ground, he finally raised his head again to meet his sister's gaze. Whatever the girl needed to confirm that something terrible had happened, it was in her brother's eyes.

"What happened?" Lucy asked, her voice crestfallen. In response, Peter turned his head to nod at Caspian.

"Ask him," he replied bitterly. At this, Caspian looked at him incredulously as Susan remarked reproachfully, "Peter."

"Me?" Caspian demanded, halting in his steps. Peter turned his head to hear the prince's remark, and he went on, "You could have called it off. There was still time."

The High King stopped short. Turning, he walked back to confront Caspian. If he realized that his eyes were rimmed red with unshed tears, he didn't give any indication.

"No there wasn't, thanks to you," he said quietly, his voice full of grief. "If you'd kept to the plan-" he jabbed his finger at the ground in emphasis "-those soldiers might be alive right now."

He turned to walk away, only to have Caspian angrily snap, "And if you'd just stayed here like I suggested, they definitely would be!"

Peter stopped again and wheeled around.

"You called us, remember?" he asked disbelievingly.

Caspian met his eyes coldly.

"My first mistake," he said condescendingly.

"No," Peter replied dismissively as he turned to leave. "Your first mistake was thinking you could lead these people."

"HEY!" The High King turned incredulously at Caspian's shout to see the Telmarine prince's face full of anger. Caspian voice dropped to a low tone of pent-up rage as he continued, "I am not the one who abandoned Narnia."

Peter narrowed his eyes.

"You invaded Narnia," he replied fiercely, jabbing his finger at the prince. "You have no more right to it than Miraz does!" At this, Caspian pushed past the High King and headed for the entrance to the How. "You, him, your father-" Caspian halted, staring ahead in stunned silence as Peter kept yelling at his back "-Narnia's better off without the lot of you!"

That was the last straw for the Telmarine. With an almighty roar of fury, Caspian turned on the spot as he unsheathed his sword. Simultaneously, both young men drew their swords and pointed them at each others throats.

"Stop it!"

At Edmund's shout, both looked over to see Glenstorm setting down the injured Trumpkin with Edmund's help as another centaur came forward with Julia's limp body. Caspian lowered his sword slowly as Peter hastily sheathed his and rushed over to help lay Tempestra down on the ground. As Lucy hurried past Caspian, she drew out the bottle containing her magical cordial. Coming over to Trumpkin's side, she and Susan knelt down as Caspian turned to leave. Peter - done setting Tempestra down - looked over his shoulder to watch the Telmarine prince leave, then knelt by Tempestra's side. Behind them, Glenstorm's wife met her husband's gaze as she fought back tears. In response, Glenstorm lay his left arm over his chest to grip his right shoulder, his own eyes filled with sorrow. The motion, obviously some kind of message that one of their sons had died, caused his wife to bow her head again, face contorted with grief.

Next to Trumpkin, Lucy gave the white dwarf a drop of the red liquid in her bottle and watched anxiously for the result as Susan and Edmund looked on. The magical cordial, given to Lucy the last time she had been in Narnia, had absolute healing powers. However, it could not heal someone who was already dead. A tense moment later, Trumpkin gasped and opened his eyes as Lucy lightly touched the top of his head worriedly.

The dwarf looked around at the people surrounding him somberly.

"What are you all standing around for?" he demanded, at which Lucy smiled in relief. "The Telmarines will be here soon enough." As Lucy stood and turned to go, Trumpkin added, "Thank you, my dear little friend." Lucy gave him a fleeting smile, then approached Tempestra as the group surrounding the dwarf transitioned over to the young woman's side where Peter was waiting impatiently.

As before, Lucy knelt down and tipped the bottle slightly so that one drop of cordial fell into the vigilante's mouth. Peter gripped Tempestra's hand firmly as he kept his eyes on her face, waiting for any sign of revived life. The arrow had driven through more of her shoulder than her chest and it hadn't pierced any major organs, but the wound had caused massive bleeding and put her body into shock. If the state of her injury was too severe and her heart had already stopped beating...

Tempestra's chest suddenly rose as she inhaled and her eyes flew open. Her gaze darted around to take in the people standing and kneeling around her as they all exhaled their anxiousness. Lucy was the first to rise. Giving Tempestra a small smile, the girl moved off with Edmund as her brother said, "I'll show you the other wounded, Lu," and guided her out of view. Susan got to her feet as well and left as Peter helped Tempestra to sit up, noting with relief that the arrow wound had stopped bleeding.

"Julia," he started to say, before his voice caught. "I thought-" he stopped, then cleared his throat. Lifting his gaze from the ground, he met her eyes with a look of gratitude. "Thank you. For taking the arrow for me."

Tempestra shrugged lightly.

"I knew the Narnians needed you too much for you to die," she replied, looking away. Glancing down at her bandaged wound, she moved the cloth aside to check the injury - there wasn't even a scar left. "Anyway," she added, grimacing at the bloodied state of her costume, "I know you'd do the same thing for me." Without any kind of detergent, she doubted that the blood would wash out. She needed new clothes.

Pushing the thought away, the young woman looked around at the Narnians that had stayed outside to help the wounded and cry for the dead. Grief was still a cold stone that burned in her chest, but she ignored it as her eyes swept over their surroundings. "Everyone should get inside," the vigilante remarked firmly. "If the Telmarines are half as smart as they look, they'll probably launch a counterattack as soon as they can. They know we're at our weakest right now."

Peter nodded. Standing up, he stopped a passing Glenstorm and gave him some whispered instructions. When the centaur general nodded and moved towards the others, the High King helped Tempestra to her feet and offered her his left arm. The young woman leaned on it gratefully - the cordial didn't might have healed the injury and replenished blood, but it didn't help with the pain and weariness - then focused her gaze on Susan and Nikabrik's retreating backs. "What's up with them?" she asked lightly. Peter glanced over.

"Don't worry about them," he replied. They're just feeling resentful."

The two of them began making their way back to the How as Tempestra frowned.

"Why?"

The High King gritted his teeth, then relaxed his jaw. "They blame me, and maybe you, for the mission and why it went wrong."

"That's BS," Tempestra said flatly. "All of those lost lives can't be blamed on one person - or two."

She didn't know if Peter knew what 'BS' meant, but he seemed to agree with her.

"It doesn't seem to stop them," he replied, shrugging. "They think that if we remained at the How, more of us would be alive. They said as much during the return trip," he added under his breath. Tempestra didn't say anything, but her left hand clenched into a fist as they entered the How.


	12. The Decision

**A/N:** I return from my first semester of college! (And with time during winter break to made headway on this story!) I think there's a weird kind of pattern in which I post a new chapter every month, but what with my newfound free time, I'll be able to post a new chapter in considerably less time. Thanks to all my readers and reviewers, including **StargazingDragon** and **wicca in training**!

**Disclaimer:** The Chronicles of Narnia and Teen Titans Go! are universes that are trademarked and protected by the government from people like me who would love to use them and make money off of them. It was not meant to be.

* * *

**Narnian Forest**

** Aslan's How**

The rest of the Narnian group had finished trooping into the How, the wounded being helped along into more private tunnels and dug out rooms to rest and recuperate. Lucy's magic cordial had worked wonders, having effectively brought down their number of fatalities due to injuries down to zero. Of course, it didn't stop the army from grieving over the many that had still died during the ill-fated siege. Tempestra did not take part in any of the small, tightly-knit groups of Narnians mourning over specific friends and comrades. Nor did she sit resting in one of the rooms or tunnels. Instead, the vigilante prowled restlessly through the maze of tunnels branching underneath the How.

Peter and Susan had been called away to participate in the mourning, a royal duty that required them to comfort the living and grieve the dead. Lucy was off taking care of some of the younger Narnians, who had unofficially adopted her as their caretaker whenever their parents were busy with warfare. Edmund was in the room that was dubbed the armory, helping to count up their stock of weapons and figure out which ones to best replace. As for Caspian - he was nowhere to be seen, having gone off to do his own activities. Secretly, Tempestra thought that the prince was sullenly lurking somewhere, nursing his broken pride and resentment. More than ever, he was a barrel of gunpowder just waiting to blow up from a small spark.

Yet the Lightning Lady found that she didn't really care. Clad in some clean clothes that had once been Susan's - a loose long-sleeved white blouse, black vest, and brown breeches - and coupled with her original boots, arm guards, and belt, the young woman strode through the tunnels, half-exploring, half-inspecting the winding earthen halls with little interest. Her mind was anywhere but her surroundings, anywhere but the How and Narnia.

She had been gone for more than four weeks, and barely any closer to getting home. Surely, even the Titans had noticed her absence, or at least, the lack of trouble that she had a habit of creating. And Damien? Three weeks was a long time for them to go without speaking, even for their long-term friendship. And if what Robin had hinted at was really true, then there was at least one person concerned with her freelance vigilante status - didn't they notice that she had, literally, vanished off the face of the earth? Were they trying to find her? Contact her? Or had she simply disappeared and been forgotten?

It was a dismal thought, broken up by the sound of hoof-steps. Turning, Tempestra saw a child centaur, the one that had been part of the honor guard welcoming the Pevensies, Caspian, and herself when they had first entered the Howe. The young centaur looked nervous as he mumbled, eyes averted, "His Highness and Their Majesties are summoning you to the war council, My Lady."

Back to business. Tempestra nodded and the little centaur trotted off, wild strawberry hair swinging. Was he related to any of the Narnians that had perished in the siege? Was he, like some of the other Narnians she suspected, losing faith in her, Caspian, and the Pevensies? Her eyes on his receding back, the vigilante started for the war room, idly wondering at the distant and detached state of her mind. If the conflict was so personal, why didn't she feel emotionally attached?

* * *

The war room was not, as it had once been, the room housing the Stone Table. Instead, it was much smaller and cozier, with torches dispersed along the stone walls. Tall pillars of the same material, standing vertically or lying on their sides, surrounded a large chunk of rock set in the center of the room. This was not for the large group of Narnians representing every species, as it had been around the Stone Table. Here, it was a select group of only a few generals (Glenstorm, Ferrah, and Reepicheep), advisers (Nikabrik, Trumpkin, Trufflehunter, and Cornelius), and royal leaders (the Pevensies and Caspian).

As Tempestra crossed the threshold, she saw that she was the last one. Everyone but the Pevensies and Caspian were sitting or standing at the edges of the room, their attention focused on the young royal leaders. Edmund and Lucy were noticeably missing, probably still busy with their respective tasks. However, Susan was standing next to the table, Peter was on the opposite side, and Caspian was pacing around. They all looked up as Tempestra entered.

Peter was the first to approach her.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you earlier," he told her, extending a hand out to her side in some kind of gesture of support, perhaps to assist her if she felt weary. "How're you feeling?" When Tempestra continued to approach the table, the High King settled for a protective hand on her elbow as he followed her, staying by her side.

"I'm fine," the vigilante replied shortly, her voice coming out more curt than she had planned. Despite the tone of her voice, Peter squeezed her shoulder comfortingly before drawing back a few steps to give her some space. After giving the High King a nod of thanks, Tempestra looked around at the rest of the room, noting Caspian's bitter look and Susan's solemn expression. The Narnians ringed around the room were quiet, their faces carefully blank. "What's going on?"

"We need to plan for the next move," Caspian announced, his gaze meeting the vigilante's. "One that does not end so poorly."

"Caspian, just drop it," Susan commented warily, eyes flicking from face to face as she judged their reactions. "It's in the past."

"No, I want to hear what the Telmarine has to say," Peter interrupted. Everyone looked at him, taken aback. The High King was looking directly at Caspian, his eyebrows raised expectantly. "Spit it out, Caspian. I know you're keeping it bottled up."

"Peter..."

The Telmarine prince overcame his surprise. Walking up to the table, he braced both hands against its surface and adopted a condescending tone.

"I think we can all agree that when we summoned you here, we didn't get what we expected," he remarked, looking around the room at the uneasy faces. His eyes rested on Tempestra, who stared back at him coolly.

"I'm sorry this didn't turn out to be a picnic," the Lightning Lady responded cuttingly. "Did you expect your uncle to look at us in awe and surrender?"

"No, I expected a successful takeover," Caspian retorted. "If we had just gone with my plan-"

"Calm down," Susan began, but Peter interrupted.

"And what - let us rot in here?"

Caspian talked over both of them. "If we had just stayed here, more Narnians would have lived! If you had just taken my idea-"

"It wouldn't have worked," Tempestra snapped.

"-if everyone would have listened to me instead," Caspian continued loudly, "or-" he pointed at the vigilante "-if _you_ had supported me like you promised you would, none of this would have happened! The horn was _supposed_ to summon proper leaders!"

Silence followed the Telmarine prince's words as he lowered his hand slowly. Everyone's eyes were on Tempestra, who stared at Caspian, feeling as if the knot in her chest had grown tighter and her mind more detached. Peter, on the other hand, looked furious.

"Caspian, you go too far."

"No." Tempestra cut Peter off, her eyes still on Caspian. "He's right." Peter looked at her incredulously. "I'm not a leader. I'm not a legend, royalty, or whatever all of you made up. I shouldn't even be here. This isn't my fight." Tearing her gaze away from the Telmarine prince, the vigilante turned to leave.

"So you're going to let down your people?" Caspian called out, his voice lancing her back. The young woman paused and turned around, her expression stony.

"They're not my people." There was an inaudible intake of breath around the room as the room's occupants absorbed her shocking words. "Despite all of your grand delusions, the only reason why I got into all of this was just to get back home." Tempestra looked at Caspian. "If I'm not living up to your expectations, fine. I didn't want to come in the first place." Shrugging out of the strap and sheath of her long rapier, the vigilante crossed to the table and laid the sword on the surface. In the middle of the stunned silence, she turned on her heel and walked out.

"I hope you all win."

* * *

She used a shortcut that led from the war room to the exit that led out of the How and into the forest. Weaving through the web of tunnels, the vigilante fully expected her path to be empty; after all, this particular shortcut was unknown to most Narnians, or so she thought. But if she had bet on it, she would have lost. Turning around a sharp curve in the wall, Tempestra nearly ran into a certain dark-haired Narnian king. They both reeled backwards to avoid a collision.

"Whoa, sorry." Edmund steadied himself quickly, then took in the young woman's appearance - swordless, with a small satchel that she'd claimed slung over her shoulder. "Where're you going?"

She almost felt bad for lying to Edmund. He truly was a very nice person, and he didn't have the hidden agendas or resentful emotions that the others had to motivate them.

"Scouting," the vigilante lied easily, holding the king's gaze innocently. Unfortunately, Edmund seemed to have some experience in seeing through lies. The young man frowned.

"You're leaving," he stated, more accusing then questioning. "Tempestra, you can't just leave like this. The Narnians need you. We need you. _Peter_ needs you." Tempestra inwardly winced, and for the first time, she looked away, sighing impatiently.

"Peter and everyone else have dealt with me not being here."

"Yeah, and look where it's gotten them," Edmund replied, gesturing around them as if to encompass the entire How and the state that Narnia was in. He dropped his hand. "You can't leave now."

He wasn't too bad at guilt-riding people, Tempestra reflected distractedly. Maybe a consequence of being Narnia's judge for fifteen years? She was detaching herself more from the situation at hand, avoiding the guiltiness that Edmund was doggedly trying to push at her. The young woman sighed again and uncomfortably shifted the strap on her satchel.

"Look, I joined this whole thing to get back home. That's been my only reason."

Edmund looked straight into her eyes.

"Are you sure that's your only reason?" he asked, his gaze never wavering. "There wasn't anything else?"

He was aptly named Edmund the Just. Tempestra looked away from his gaze, though it wasn't unkind.

"Ok, maybe I _did_ want to play the hero leader." She looked back at the young king. "But after I almost died, I had a kind of epiphany." She shrugged. "I don't want to follow some kind of past or future destiny that's already been written out for me. I'm choosing my own way."

Edmund looked more disappointed than angry.

"You mean you're being selfish," he said quietly. Tempestra steeled herself against his disappointment, guilt-riding, and justness, and pushed by the young king without looking into his face.

"Call it whatever you want," she replied. "I'm done."

* * *

**Narnian Forest**

**Outside of Aslan's How**

The forest was quiet, its usual chorus of sounds now hushed as if in anticipation. Tempestra slipped out of the secret exit, looking dubiously over her shoulder at it. Someone should have told the Narnians that a secret exit should also be hidden; theirs was little more than a doorway made of stone slabs embedded into the lee of a small hill. Granted, it was somewhat camouflaged by overhanging trees and bushes, but it was still not so difficult to find. She'd have to mention it to Peter when she saw him again.

If she saw him again.

Pushing the thought out of her mind, the young woman struck out from the How, with no idea where exactly she was going. But she did know what she was going to do: meditate. And for that, she needed the quietest, most peaceful place. Eventually, she decided on a particularly soft spot of grass, partially concealed by a couple of tall bushes. For extra measures, the vigilante created a lightning shield to surround herself before settling down cross-legged on the grass.

Then she closed her eyes.

Calming down and finding her proper meditative state took an embarrassingly long time. Tempestra knew it was partly because she had barely practiced meditation in the last month; what with royalty, fights against Telmarines, and conflicts within the Narnians camp, she hadn't had a lot of spare time to meditate. In fact, she hadn't had a lot of time to sleep. Now, when she had to relax and focus her mind, she found that being tired and agitated really didn't help.

After more than a half hour, the young woman finally concentrated her mind into the proper meditative state. Once there, she quietly lingered there, savoring the peacefulness. For the first time in a month, she was content. She didn't have to worry about anything at the moment, merely satisfy herself with a centered mind. But there were other things that she had to do.

Taking a firm hold of her emotions, Tempestra focused her mental self, then called out mentally, using her emotions - icy grief, frustration, anger, and fear - to fuel the voice and act as a kind of emotional red flag. Raven had once told her that she could sense intense emotions, especially those of people she knew well, including her teammates. With any luck, the vigilante would be able to get Raven's attention if the empath was being receptive at all. She just had to pray that the Titan could still sense strong emotions from familiar people even in another world.

_Raven? Can you hear me?_

She let a few minutes go by, listening with her mind for any responses. When none came, she tried again, louder and with more emotion.

_RAVEN? CAN YOU HEAR ME?_

Only a long silence followed. Tempestra's mental self receded slowly and sadly, her emotions dissipating back and leaving her with in the original blank meditative state. In that state, there was nothing but stark cold reality: she was alone. Completely, utterly alone. She could not contact anyone from Earth, nevermind Raven and the other Titans. She didn't know any other dimension travelers, and even if she did, she wouldn't know how to let them know she was trapped.

Trapped. She was absolutely trapped in Narnia, with no way out. For the first time, the full weight of that knowledge crashed down upon her, dragging her down with a total feeling of helplessness. She would never return to Earth, never see Damien or Robin or Kid Flash or the Titans. Never use technology or modern science again, never have the chance to go back to college, never go back to being normal (whatever normal was). Cars, skyscrapers, phones, computers - they were all in the past now. She was stuck in a land lost in time that - judging by the change in weapons, armor, and architecture - barely made any kind of technological progress. In thirteen hundred years, the Narnians were still in the Medieval Age and the Telmarines in the Renaissance one.

What was she supposed to do now?

_Help the Narnians defeat Miraz_, a part of her whispered. That part of her reminded her of her old duty to help the Narnians, the legend that emblazoned her on the pages of history as a hero and leader. She could still be that heroic leader. She was convinced that, contrary to popular belief, Aslan would never come. The Narnians needed her help or they would be wiped from existence, an utter genocide all over again. If they lost, the Telmarines would never let them have the chance to rise again. All of Narnia would be destroyed until the last Narnian was found. Caspian would probably be killed in battle, if not executed by Miraz himself. And Peter, who only wanted his kingdom back to the way it used to be, would be murdered along with his siblings. Tempestra would be forced to go on the run for the rest of her life, now that the Telmarines knew what she looked like and what she could do. They would never allow her to live as long as they wanted to maintain total control.

But there were so many reasons why she didn't want to go back. She didn't want to die, sacrificing her life for a cause that she had no connection to. She'd tried being a hero and doing the 'fighting for what's right' thing and even though it had felt nice for awhile, it had its price. She wasn't cut out to be that selfless and noble. Hell, the only noble thing about her was her refusal to kill. Was that the thing holding her back? Would she have to kill to fully realize her place with the Narnians? If she killed again, she wouldn't just lose her old self from Earth - she'd also lose the vigilante one. She couldn't be a lone non-killing vigilante who looked out for herself, _and_ a selfless people-caring hero who led armies and slaughtered her enemies in the name of a nation. She had to pick one.

She had to decide.


	13. The White Witch

**A/N: **So I managed to update in five days - quite an accomplishment! Merry Christmas everyone, and if I don't post before then, have a Happy New Year!

**Disclaimer: **I'd love the Chronicles of Narnia and Teen Titans Go! universes for Christmas because I don't own them, but somehow, I don't think it'll happen.

**

* * *

**

**Narnian Forest**

**Aslan's How**

"Pete? Pete?"

High King Peter looked up from the maps of the How and the battlefield as Edmund burst into the War Room, eyes wild. The dark-haired king was panting from exertion, obviously having run over to alert his brother. Peter rose from his seat, instinctively reaching for his sheathed sword as his eyes took in his brother's disheveled appearance.

"Ed? What's wrong?"

The younger brother stopped at the entrance to the room and leaned against the wall to catch a quick breath.

"The Stone Table room. Trumpkin was going by the tunnel and said he heard strange chanting. We looked for Caspian and he's gone. So's Nikabrik."

Dread began filling the high king's heart. Nikabrik had been there during the meeting when they had all fought and Tempestra had stormed off. After Caspian had left, the black dwarf had followed shortly after, looking almost as resentful as the Telmarine prince had. If the two of them were up to something...He, Peter, should have followed Caspian and tried to talk him out of doing anything reckless. After the failed siege on Miraz's castle and the resulting heated arguments, the Telmarine prince was a pent-up explosive just waiting to blow. He was irrational, hot-tempered, and temperamental, and in that state of mind, he was liable to do anything rash. Chanting, especially, was never a good thing; it was usually accompanied by dark magic.

Trying not to look at Tempestra's sword still lying on the table, Peter strode over to his brother and clapped him on the shoulder. He was already getting a bad feeling.

"Let's go."

They went at a run, the three of them: Edmund, Peter, and Trumpkin. Once in the tunnel, Peter could hear the sound of crackling (fire?) and voices, one of them definitely female. Was it Tempestra? No, she was gone. It wasn't Susan, who was still disappointed in all of them, or Lucy, who was busy with other tasks. Then who could it be?

The answer was revealed the second they all turned the corner of the tunnel and saw the scene. As he sprinted the last few yards, Peter took it all in: the hag in brown robes, the werewolf in black robes, Nikabrik, and finally Caspian, who was reaching out with his left hand towards a wall of ice that stretched between the two pillars in front of the stone etching of Aslan. Within the solid wall of ice, reaching back for the Telmarine prince, was the White Witch. Fear froze in Peter's chest like ice, making his breath ragged. How could it be? The White Witch was dead – she had been dead for over thirteen hundred years.

Magic. Of course. As he came nearer to the entrance, the high king saw something thin and tall frozen on the step below the two pillars: a broken half of the White Witch's magical staff, the one that once could turn anything into stone. Now it seemed that it was the source of the ice wall and the ghostly White Witch herself.

"Stop!"

At Peter's shout, the hag, werewolf, and Nikabrik turned and ran to meet Peter, Edmund, and Trumpkin, who thundered into the room while unsheathing their swords. Nikabrik headed to intercept Trumpkin, which left the hag and the werewolf, who climbed over the Stone Table and dove for Edmund, who ducked. From the corner of his eye, Peter saw the werewolf roll on the ground then spring back up and begin to face off Edmund.

Then the hag was in front of the high king, who swung his sword at her. Cackling, she ducked. Using her loose brown robes to distract him, the hag seized Peter's right wrist and, with surprising strength, slammed it against the side of the Stone Table. With a cry of surprise, Peter dropped his sword, which clattered to the ground. Somewhere behind him, the werewolf howled and Edmund gave a shout of pain. From the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of red and knew that Lucy had entered. At that moment, however, he was focused on his opponent, who stood between him and his weapon.

Praying that Lucy, Trumpkin, and Edmund would be all right, Peter ran at the hag. In an unexpected and swift move, she swept her legs out and caught the young man behind the knees, causing him to fall onto his back. Clawed hands outstretched, the hag launched herself at Peter, who grabbed her by the robes and hauled her backwards. The hag flew through the air, hit a stone pillar, and crumpled to the ground where she lay unmoving. Peter twisted around and looked up. Caspian was still standing in front of the ice wall, his hand oustretched towards the White Witch.

Scrambling to his feet, Peter grabbed his sword and dashed towards the Telmarine prince. Angling himself, the young man shoved Caspian out of the way with his shoulder, throwing the Telmarine to the ground where he lay on his back, groaning. Ignoring him, Peter raised his sword defensively in front of him and faced off against the White Witch.

"Get away from him!" he shouted. The White Witch pulled back and withdrew her hand, then seemed to reconsider as Peter stared at her. Fear and anger thrummed in his veins, and his breath came out in short puffs to crystallize in the cold air.

"Peter dear...I have missed you." The White Witch's voice was pitying and just as poisonously sweet and condescending as it had been so long ago. She reached her hand out through the ice again towards him. "Come, just one drop." No. He could not let her out and allow her to roam free. Unless...if he did, would some kind of magic bind her to him and force her to do his wishes?

"You know you can't do this alone," the White Witch added knowingly. No. She was a notorious back-stabber and could never keep her promises. She was evil and greedy, and cared about no one except for herself. She would likely kill him and the rest of the Narnians as soon as she was released; she'd tried to already. They were enemies, always had been and always would be. He did not need her help.

And yet...he did. The Narnians were in a desolate state of affairs, with less than a thousand of them against an infinitely larger army of Telmarines, who had better-kept weapons, more sophisticated technology, and endless resources. And what did the Narnians have? They needed magic on their side to fight the overwhelming numbers. The White Witch could provide that magic. With her, they could wipe out the Telmarines and take back Narnia. Many Narnians would not have to die. Not like at the siege. They could win this war. All could be saved.

He began to lower his sword.

There was the sound of steel stabbing through the ice, and the White Witch gasped and pulled back her outstretched hand. They both looked down at her middle, where the point of a sword was suddenly protruding. Large cracks began spreading out from the sword, branching out over the surface of the ice. The two enemies stared at each other, Peter's face one of confusion and the White Witch's one of stunned surprise. Throwing back her head, the White Witch gave a chilling scream as the ice wall abruptly crumbled, breaking into chunks and collapsing onto the ground in front of Peter, who ducked and covered his head to avoid the pieces.

Once the ice had completely fallen, everyone stared up to see Edmund standing behind the two pillars, his sword still raised from where it had penetrated the ice wall. Caspian got up and came over to stand next to Peter as he rose. Edmund lowered his raised sword.

"I know," the king remarked to Peter, his voice both sarcastic and irritable. "You had it sorted." Without another word, he turned and walked off, leaving Caspian and Peter to stare at the stone wall now revealed behind the pillars. The stone carving of Aslan, illuminated by the flickering flames, seemed to be gazing at them. When the two young men turned, they saw Susan standing on the other side of the Stone Table, glaring at both of them in disgust. She glanced around at the bodies around them, looked back at Caspian, then turned and stormed off.

Peter watched his sister go, then looked at Caspian, whose face mirrored the same shame. They now had something else in common: in a moment of serious weakness and lack of judgment, they had disappointed their friends and family. In the process, they had forgotten the source of their hope.

* * *

"Peter?"

Peter looked around from his seat in front of the Stone Table to see Tempestra standing in the entrance to the room, watching him and Lucy, who had been holding a serious conversation.

"Tempestra?" He got to his feet, staring at her. "You're back?"

The young woman fingered the strap of her sheathed sword, which was slung once more over her shoulder. She had never seen Peter look so relieved to see her. Beside him, Lucy was smiling happily, if not a bit knowingly.

"Yeah."

As if sensing that the two of them wanted to talk, Lucy got to her feet and made her way around the Stone Table. About to pass Tempestra, the girl hugged her quickly around the middle, whispered, "I knew you'd be back," then set off down the tunnel. Nonplussed, Tempestra turned back to Peter, who was looking at her with a mixture of gladness and hope. When the vigilante came over and sat down next to him, the high king sat back down again, never taking his eyes off of her. They sat with their backs against the Stone Table.

"I heard what happened," Tempestra told Peter quietly, her eyes on the etching of Aslan on the opposite stone wall. "The others told me." For the first time, Peter looked away, his eyes coming to rest on the carving of Aslan.

"And?"

"And..." Tempestra shrugged, deciding to be blunt about it. "It was stupid. You could've unleashed a dangerous force on all of us. That being said..." She sighed. "You didn't. All of you stopped the ritual. At the cost of everyone's respect for you," she added as an afterthought.

Peter looked back at her.

"And you?" he asked her cautiously. "Do you still respect me?"

Tempestra rubbed her temples wearily.

"Yes. I know what you did was irresponsible and everything, but I can understand what made you almost give in. You were desperate." She turned her head to meet his gaze. "I feel like if I'd been there I would've slapped some sense into you."

Peter gave her a small smile as the remaining tension drained.

"You probably would've," he admitted, and Tempestra returned his smile, then glanced away. The high king became quiet, still looking at her and savoring the comfortable silence that stretched between them. Then, quietly, he asked, "What changed your mind?"

The vigilante looked down at her clasped hands. She understood what he was referring to.

"I had an epiphany," she replied softly. Again, she decided to be candid about it. She looked at Peter. "I can't get back," the young woman told him frankly. "It's impossible. So, I decided that if I'm going to be stuck here for the rest of my life-" she swallowed, then continued, "-I might as well be helping all of you instead of running. You and the Narnians need all the help you can get."

They were quiet for another moment before Peter broke the silence.

"Well, I'm glad you came back," he remarked, and Tempestra met his eyes. "When you left, it was kind of like when I returned to England last year after being in Narnia for fifteen years: raw terror." He looked back at the stone carving of Aslan. "After I understood that I couldn't get back to Narnia, I realized that I couldn't get back to rule Narnia, and I couldn't get back to you." He looked down. "I thought I'd never see you again."

Tempestra's gaze was soft as she looked at the young king, pity and the beginnings of affection welling inside her for the young man. Before Peter could react, she impulsively reached over and squeezed his hand. When he looked at her, surprised, she smiled.

"It's okay," she told him reassuringly. "I'm here now, aren't I?"

Peter's look became sober.

"And if we win and Aslan gave you the chance to go home, would you?"

The vigilante was lost for words. Luckily, the timely arrival of Edmund prevented her from having to answer Peter's question. The young king entered the room and stopped to the side of the Stone Table, looking at the two of them urgently.

"Pete...you'd better come quickly."

Glancing at each other worriedly, Tempestra and Peter got up and followed him out. Edmund eventually led them through a few tunnels that led to the higher levels of the How, then out into the sunlight on a ledge overlooking the grassy field. Lucy, Susan, Caspian, and a few others were already there, lined up on the edge and watching the border of the forest on the other side of the field. When Edmund, Peter, and Tempestra joined them, they glanced back at them then back to the forest, where movement stirred. A second later, the first line of Telmarine soldiers broke through the edge of the forest and paraded onto the grass, followed by another line, then another. Caspian and Peter glanced uneasily at each other, then looked back at the scene.

Before their eyes, a fully-fledged Telmarine army had marched out onto the field, organized into six groups of six hundred footsoldiers. They pushed four trebuchets (a variation of a catapult) and what looked like a mass arrow launcher carved into the shape of an eagle head. Four hundred more soldiers brought up the rear. Soon, two hundred soldiers on horseback rode between the groups and spread out in front, followed by soldiers brandishing the Telmarine banners, and what must have been the generals. Prominent among them was a man clad in gold-brushed armor and riding a white horse: Miraz. He stood out among his soldiers, all of whom wore plainer metal armor and rode brown, black, and gray horses. Their faces were obscured by metal masks crafted to resemble bearded faces permanently fixed in terrifying scowls.

"I'm guessing there's about forty-two hundred of them," Tempestra murmured in the silence that stretched on the ledge. More Narnians had come out to watch, most of them on the ground level. They muttered to each other restlessly. When she looked at Peter, however, Tempestra only saw cool calculation as the high king stared at the scene, his face thoughtful. The end of the long war was just beginning.


	14. The Big Plan

**A/N:** Kind of a long chapter, but hopefully it makes up for the long time that I didn't update! Thanks to **wicca in training** for reminding me about format erors, **StargazingDragon** for reviewing, and **Rain1902** for encouraging me to keep at this story.

* * *

The Narnians did not waste time gawking at the Telmarine army, which had begun to unpack and settle down behind the fringe of the forest. Instead, Peter ordered them to double their efforts making weapons and practicing combat, with the non-human leaders (Glenstorm, Trumpkin, and Reepicheep) to oversee these processes. Caspian and Cornelius were with the group of Narnians that knew the layout of the How best; with their combined efforts, they were working on battle strategies that could use the How and the battlefield to their advantage.

In the meantime, Peter called the Pevensies and Tempestra together to propose a new plan. As Tempestra headed to the War Room, she felt unease stirring in her. Peter hadn't mentioned what kind of plan he was going to introduce, and the fact that he hadn't even given a hint implied that he thought it would be hotly debated within the group. But it was comforting (and strange) to know that he thought of her as part of his family - at least, more than he considered Caspian as part of his family.

Then again, being betrothed to the high king would definitely make anyone be counted as "part of the family".

As she entered the War Room, Tempestra saw that she was not the first or last to arrive. Peter was already there, poring over a map on the giant rock that served as a table. On the other side, Lucy was sitting comfortably on the edge, looking up at the ceiling and obviously deep in thought. Both looked over as the Lightning Lady strode in, Lucy giving her a fleeting smile, and Peter giving her a warm, genuine one. He held out his hand towards the young woman, who took it impulsively as she walked over; their eyes met for a brief moment before she looked away. The way Peter looked at her as he clasped her hand gave her a strange feeling, as if someone had poured warm molten metal down her throat and into her chest. It was a look of love, she realized with a jolt, a look of someone who would be absolutely willing to spend his whole life with her. To be on the receiving end of that look was startling, but not altogether uncomfortable.

As Peter drew her over to the map, Tempestra smoothly released his hand and locked it behind her back as she bent over the piece of paper on the table. When she glanced up at Lucy, she saw that the little girl was smiling almost contentedly at the two of them. When the small queen saw Tempestra's glance, however, she went back to looking thoughtfully up at the ceiling. Tempestra cleared her throat.

"So, what are you looking at?"

Peter, who didn't seem to mind her unclasping their hands, moved to stand next to her.

"It's a map of the underground passages of the How," he explained, pointing out a few drawn tunnels. "Some of the Narnians here were kind enough to sketch this for me."

Tempestra peered at the drawing, and noted a few passages that she had not encountered during her wanderings.

"For what?" she asked distractedly, tracing the unknown tunnels. However, Peter just shook his head.

"I'll tell you when the rest get here," he replied. At the sound of footsteps, he added, "Right on time, actually." They both looked up to see Susan and Edmund entering the room. All the Pevensies, Tempestra realized with a look around the room, were still wearing the leather armor that they wore during the siege on Miraz's castle. No doubt Narnian blacksmiths were at work making them new armor to reflect their ancient equivalents.

But what would she, Tempestra, wear? The young woman had never worn armor before, and had never practiced fighting while wearing armor. Yet she could not go into battle without any protection. It was something she'd have to ask later, though judging from Glenstorm's ability to think ahead, he probably had something already planned for her, just as he did for her rapier.

Meanwhile, Susan and Edmund had finally reached the table. They took their places around the circular rock, all five young men and women evenly spacing themselves along the edge. Lucy had changed her position and was now sitting cross-legged and facing the center of the table.

"You said you had a new idea," Edmund told Peter, folding his arms. "What is it?"

Peter glanced at Lucy, who nodded. Encouraged by this, the high king looked back at Edmund, then the rest of the group ringed around the table.

"Lucy has decided on a mission, and I've agreed to it," the youth said. "She wants to leave the How to search for Aslan and ask him for help."

Dead silence met the statement as Edmund, Susan, and Tempestra stared at Peter in stunned disbelief. From her position, Lucy wordlessly looked at each of them in turn for their reactions as Peter looked back at the others, resolute in his decision. For a moment, Susan opened her mouth as if to object, but after a second's thought she closed it, looking disapproving. Edmund, too, looked slightly rebellious, but he gritted his teeth and nodded.

Tempestra looked around the circle at the Pevensies' reactions, then back at Peter.

"Are you crazy?" she finally cried, breaking the tense silence. "You want to send an eleven-year-old girl out into a forest that's crawling with Telmarine soldiers? They'll find her and capture her!"

Susan pursed her lips.

"We need Aslan's help," she remarked, her tone tinged with defeat. "We've tried this before, fighting without him. It never works."

The Lightning Lady raised her eyebrows.

"And what if the Telmarines find Lucy before she finds Aslan? It'll be one big waste."

"Do you still doubt that Aslan exists?" Lucy asked quietly, her eyes on Tempestra.

The young woman nodded defiantly.

"Yes, I do."

Lucy just shook her head.

"He does. That's why Aslan hasn't shown himself yet, because there wasn't enough belief." The girl looked around at her siblings. "We haven't proved our belief in him. I realized this after we encountered the White Witch."

Tempestra was sorely tempted to roll her eyes.

"So what, you think that if you risk your life you'll show Aslan that you believe in him?" Lucy nodded. "You're taking a risky gamble."

"It's one we need to take," Edmund stated firmly, speaking up for the first time. "He can turn the tide of the battle, like he did before."

"I'll go with Lucy to protect her," Susan said suddenly. They all looked at her, and the queen looked back at them decisively. "We were the ones with Aslan when he died, and we'll be the ones to find him again."

"Good God," Tempestra muttered, closing her eyes in disbelief. She couldn't belief that they were all buying into this. It was irrational, illogical, risky, and downright foolish. Whatever belief in Aslan they spoke of, it would not convince her.

"Trust me." Tempestra opened her eyes to see Peter gazing at her. His eyes were reassuring, his voice confident. He truly believed that this was the right thing to do, and the right way. They all did, even if they didn't like it.

"Fine," Tempestra said abruptly. "Fine. But the others won't like it."

* * *

"Cake and kettledrums! That's your next big plan?"

Staring at Peter with a mixture of astonishment and horror, Trumpkin moved around the side of the rock table, pointing towards the forest. "Sending a little girl alone into the darkest parts of the forest alone?"

The white dwarf was clearly not the only one with the same sentiment. The other Narnian leaders, including Reepicheep, Trufflehunter, and Glenstorm, shifted uneasily. They, Caspian, and Cornelius had been called to meet at the War Room with the Pevensies and Tempestra to discuss the new plan, and like the Lightning Lady had predicted, they did not like it. Meanwhile, the non-Narnian leaders except for Peter were keeping silent and staying to the side, letting Peter explain the plan. Susan and Lucy stood to the side and Edmund sat on some steps, directly opposite from Caspian and Cornelius, who were sitting on their own steps.

Peter was resolute in his decision.

"It's our only chance," he told Trumpkin firmly. Tempestra, who stood a few feet away as she listened, pursed her lips in disagreement but stayed silent. This was their decision, and she had been outvoted. It was up to the Pevensies to defend their decision.

"And she won't be alone," Susan told Trumpkin reassuringly. However, the dwarf ignored the queen. Instead, he approached Lucy and spoke almost pleadingly.

"Haven't enough of us died already?" he asked, as Lucy looked back at him sadly. Yet a firm voice spoke up from next to Edmund, and everyone turned to see Trufflehunter standing up.

"Nikabrik was my friend too, but he lost hope," the badger stated. "Queen Lucy hasn't." He looked at Lucy, then Trumpkin. "And neither have I."

There it is, Tempestra thought warily. Trufflehunter had brought in hope again, and belief. He was bringing up what the Narnians had almost lost, and what the Pevensies were hoping would bring them through the upcoming fight. The Narnians only needed a reminder of what they fought for.

At the sound of metal upon metal, the room's occupants looked around to see Reepicheep, who stood on the surface of the rock table. The noble mouse unsheathed his sword, then crossed it across his shoulder in a kind of salute.

"For Aslan," he said solemnly, nodding.

"For Aslan!" the single bear in the room repeated, drawing everyone's attention. Meanwhile, Tempestra resisted the urge to speak out again. They only had to bring up Aslan and belief, and the Narnians were convinced. Sensing that their decision had been agreed upon, Peter looked back at Lucy and nodded. Trumpkin, however, was not entirely convinced.

"I'm going with you," he told Lucy firmly, but the young queen placed a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.

"No," she replied gently, "we need you here."

"We may have to hold them off until Lucy and Susan get back," Peter explained. As Lucy and Trumpkin looked at him, Tempestra stepped closer to the table to get everyone's attention.

"We'll need some kind of plan to hold them off, then," she announced. "Some kind of diversion to prevent the inevitable battle from starting. We don't want them to come back to a battle already finished."

"If I may..." everyone turned to see Caspian, who had just spoken for the first time. His voice was cautious, but polite as he looked to his professor for assurance, received a nod, then rose to his feet more confidently. "Miraz may be a tyrant and a murderer," Caspian continued, walking forward and speaking to the room in general, "but as king, he is subject to the traditions and expectations of his people." The Telmarine prince looked at Peter. "There is one in particularly that may buy us some time."

Peter looked at Lucy, Edmund, Susan, and Tempestra for confirmation.

Tempestra kept her eyes on Caspian, her interest peaked.

"Go ahead."

Caspian gave her an appreciative nod, then addressed the whole room.

"Since ancient times, there has been a tradition that has stood through the years until even now. When there is a disagreement among Telmarine groups, one group issues a challenge to the other."

"A challenge?" Susan repeated questioningly.

The Telmarine nodded.

"For a duel. Two Telmarine men face each other in a duel, without any other help."

There was a brief silence as everyone absorbed this information, before Edmund remarked in surprise, "That's brilliant."

"Well done, Caspian," Lucy said. Even Tempestra was impressed with the genius of the idea. Perhaps the Telmarine prince, once in a logical mind, had the makings of a king.

"That will definitely provide Susan and Lucy some time," Peter announced. "And it will prevent bloodshed. If I have enough strength, I could even hold Miraz off indefinitely until they get back."

Caspian frowned.

"Actually, I was planning to duel Miraz myself."

"No," Susan stated immediately, just as Tempestra objected, "Caspian. As much as I know you want to fight your uncle, Peter should be the one to duel Miraz."

"Tempestra's right," Peter said. "You need to stay alive so you can rule." At this, Tempestra glanced at Peter. He had openly acknowledged for the first time that Caspian was the proper ruler. It was a big, but necessary step that the high king had finally risen over.

Glenstorm spoke for the first time.

"Your Majesties, we will need _all_ of you to lead the battle. I will duel Miraz."

Peter shook his head.

"No, we need you, General. And it has to be a son of Adam. I must do it."

"Then you'll need to write a formal declaration," Edmund pointed out, to which Peter replied, "I'll work on it."

Trufflehunter stepped forward.

"I will aid you, Your Majesty," he announced. "I know a thing or two about royal documents from my study of history."

"And it must be delivered properly," Caspian added. "Someone must deliver it."

"I'll go," Edmund offered. "As the other Narnian king, it's fitting."

"You need someone else to go with you," Tempestra said thoughtfully. "Two others, maybe." She looked around the room. "I think Glenstorm should go, and probably our resident giant, Wimbleweather. They'll intimidate the Telmarines and provide protection."

Glenstorm bowed his head.

"It will be an honor."

"It would be an honor for me to join King Edmund as well," Reepicheep added, but Peter shook his head.

"We'll need you to help create battle strategies, Reepicheep," he told the mouse. "You know the layout of the How and the battlefield better than most, and from a unique point of view."

Reepicheep nodded.

"As you wish, Your Majesty."

Lucy stepped forward.

"Bring white flowers," she suggested. "As a sign of peace and goodwill."

Tempestra snorted softly in derision.

"Because that's exactly what we all want," she said sarcastically.

Lucy looked her straight in the eye.

"It is," she said patiently. "Peace is always preferable to war. That's what we're fighting for."

"And if Miraz refuses the challenge?" Trumpkin asked apprehensively.

"He won't," Caspian stated without hesitation. "Not if you present it correctly."

Peter frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Present it as a matter of bravery and pride," the Telmarine prince explained. "If there is something Miraz has to protect, it is his pride and reputation. He will not back down if it means looking weak to others."

"Especially if his rule isn't stable," Susan added, comprehension dawning. "His councilors will be looking for weaknesses so they can overthrow him."

"Pitch the idea so they'll want him to enter the duel," Tempestra suggested. "They'll want him dead as much as we do."

Edmund nodded.

"I can word that properly."

Lucy was the only one who looked worried.

"Please don't try to start a fight right there," she said almost pleadingly. Trufflehunter looked at her.

"Queen Lucy's right. Do not provoke Miraz or any of his councilors."

"I'm going, too," Tempestra declared suddenly. Everyone stared at her, surprised.

"What?" Peter's voice was startled, almost indignant. "Why?"

"Your presence will only incense them," Caspian warned.

Tempestra shrugged.

"I won't let the Telmarines see me. I'll just scout the camp and try to learn anything useful."

Peter frowned, obviously opposed to this plan.

"It's not worth the risk," he told the young woman firmly. However, Tempestra held up a hand to stop him from going on.

"Hear me out, ok? I was thinking...if there's anyone here who knows their herbs, I could always put something in the Telmarines' food to make them sick. It'll weaken those who've eaten that polluted food, and make the others suspicious of the rest of their food. An ill army or an army that fights on an empty stomach is a half-defeated army." She looked at Reepicheep apologetically. "I would have asked for your help, but I don't think you can carry packets of powder."

The noble mouse shook his head.

"It would be too heavy, I'm afraid."

Meanwhile, Trumpkin was nodding in agreement.

"It's a good idea."

Susan, too, was agreeing. "I don't see why not."

"I'm fine with it," Edmund added. "If anything happens - and I know nothing will - Tempestra could always provide some help."

"As long as you stay out of sight," Caspian told Tempestra warningly. The rest of the group nodded, then looked to Peter for the last confirmation. Despite acknowledging that Caspian would rule the Narnians, the high king had to approve their decisions.

Peter was staring at Tempestra, trying to dissuade her with a look that beseeched her not to go. In the middle of the Telmarine camp, virtually alone, she would be in more danger than she had been at the siege on Miraz's castle. But Tempestra met his gaze steadily, relaying to him wordlessly that her mind was set. He had to let her go. Intelligent strategy and the chance to weaken the Telmarines trumped his protectiveness over her.

Finally Peter sighed.

"All right," he said resignedly. Then he looked around the room, businesslike once more. "Trufflehunter and I will work on the challenge. Ed, you and Glenstorm let the giant Wimbleweather know about the plans. Reepicheep, gather anyone else who knows the area well and work with Cornelius to make battle strategies; he knows Narnian battle history well. Susan and Lucy will be planning their journey. Trumpkin, oversee the weapons-making. Caspian and I will help with weapons practice. And Tempestra-"

"I'll find someone who knows about herbs, ask Caspian about anything I need to know about Telmarine camps, and study the maps," the Lightning Lady finished. "Don't worry about it."

Peter gave her a brief smile.

"All right. I'll let you and Ed know when Trufflehunter and I are done, and all of you can set off."

"As soon as we're back, we should meet up again to go over notes and finish battle strategies," Edmund pointed out. "The Narnians can prepare for the upcoming battle, and the other leaders can prepare for the duel."

"When it starts, me and Lucy will go," Susan added, as Lucy nodded.

Caspian looked at the two queens.

"I will see them off," he stated. "My horse will be suitable for the ride."

Peter nodded decisively.

"Then let's start. We've got a lot of work to do."

At that final note, everyone headed out of the War Room to disperse and do their own jobs. But as Peter began moving towards the exit, Tempestra stopped him.

"Peter? Wait a second."

The high king let the other leaders pass by him, then walked over to Tempestra. The young woman was leaning backwards against the rock table, her face pensive. When the room was empty except for the two of them, she looked at Peter.

"You do know the full weight of what you're going to do, right?" she asked abruptly. As Peter looked at her inquiringly, she added, "dueling Miraz and everything. You do know that it has to end in either you killing Miraz, or you getting killed. Duels don't stop until someone's dead."

Peter gave a long sigh as he joined Tempestra in leaning backwards against the table. But he didn't meet her eyes.

"I know," he said finally. "And I'm prepared to kill Miraz if I have to."

Tempestra stared directly at him, unwilling to look away.

"Are you prepared to die?" she demanded bluntly. "Because there's always that chance. Miraz is older than even you were; he's got more experience. He didn't live during a 'Golden Age', and he's probably been in more fights."

Peter was quiet for a moment.

"I'm not ready to leave Narnia yet," he said eventually. "I'm not ready to leave my family. And-" he turned his head to look at Tempestra "-I'm not ready to leave you. Not again, not like this."

They locked eyes for a long moment, before Tempestra was forced to look away. There is was again - that look that both scared, exhilarated, and comforted her. There was too much emotion in that look, and it was too much to handle. She wasn't old enough for this kind of intense emotion. It was only now that Peter was allowing himself to look at her like this, she realized. He'd been keeping it reined in before, how much he loved her. But now that she had started warming up to him, and now that the danger had increased...

He didn't want to let her go without her knowing.

"Peter-" Tempestra began warily, but he stopped her with a shake of his head. When she glanced back at him, his gaze was more restrained.

"I've got something to show you," he told her. Bending down, he picked up something that had been hidden, unnoticed, at the base of the rock table in its shadow. When the high king placed the object on the surface of the table, however, it was illuminated by the torches lining the stone walls. Tempestra leaned closer.

It was a small wooden chest, made from mahogany a long time ago, judging from the decay of the wood and rusty metal holding it together; it had to be extremely well made to have stayed intact for so long. A small but intricate metal lock had once protected the chest's secrets, but it was now rusty and broken. Carved and painted on the front of the chest but now faded from age was a rearing red lion, almost colorless now but still outlined clearly. On the top of the chest was a once-violet purple lightning bolt.

As soon as Tempestra saw this she started withdrawing.

"Look, Peter-"

"Tempestra. Julia." She looked at Peter warily and saw the reassuring expression on his face. "Don't worry."

So she didn't. Holding her breath, the young woman watched as Peter raised the lid of the chest, revealing that inside, it was half-full of clothes and small objects. On the top of the pile was a small object, nestled in the folds of a black material. Peter picked the object up and held it out for Tempestra to see.

It was a belt buckle, heavily decayed from age. Yet it was still obvious that it had once been silver, and there had once been a symbol engraved in the middle of the circular buckle. Tempestra could make out the faded outline of a lightning bolt. It was an exact replica of the buckle that she wore, but thirteen hundred years old.

"The Narnians found this with the rest of our treasures," Peter told her softly. "The chest was at the bottom of mine. It's been untouched for thirteen hundred years. Julia...this is yours. This belonged to you when you lived here in Narnia, thirteen hundred years ago. It was definitely you."

Tempestra stared at the buckle. Yes, part of her had already acknowledged the fact that she must have been the legendary Lightning Lady of the Golden Age of Narnia, but the other, more logical part of her had continued to deny this. There was no evidence of it. But now there was.

"I know you don't want to claim that you were the Lightning Lady and that all of the legends really happened," Peter went on gently, "And that's all right. But I wanted you to know that it could have happened. Our time together in Narnia could have happened. I remember it, and so does time."

The young woman slowly took the buckle from Peter's hands, feeling the rough but familiar surface. Then, just as solemnly, she placed it back on top of the pile and closed the lid of the chest.

"It doesn't matter if it happened or it didn't," she told Peter calmly, meeting his eyes steadily. "The only thing that's completely sure is the present, and how we can direct the future. Don't worry about what happened in the past."

Peter shook his head slowly.

"I'm not worrying about the past anymore," he said quietly, his tone earnest. "Just the future. What if I die in the duel?" The high king slumped over the table as he leaned his elbows against the surface, burying his face in his hands in frustration. "I'll be leaving Narnia again. Worst of all, I'll be leaving my family. And I'll be leaving you again, which is something I promised myself I'd never do again."

"Hey."

This could not happen. High King Peter was the pillar of bravery and leadership that the Narnians, Pevensies, and even Caspian looked to for strength. If they had a leader that was crumbling from self-doubt at his very core, they would never make it. He could not be distracted because of his love for another person. He could not be overprotective. They needed him to be confident, commanding, and assertive. They could not have him regret his decisions or worry about his fate and the consequences of his actions.

Tempestra touched the youth's shoulder. When he lifted his face from his hands and turned his head in her direction, she pulled gently on his arm until he was standing straight once more, looking down at her. Then she grasped him by the shoulders reassuringly. "You are Sir Peter Wolfsbane, or High King Peter the Magnificent. You ruled the Kingdom of Narnia for fifteen years, known as the Golden Age, then returned thirteen hundred years later to lead Narnia in a fight to win its freedom again. No one will believe that you'd be leaving Narnia, or your family, or me." She smiled. "And you'll be fine. I'll be right next to you the whole time."

That was enough for Peter. In a rush of emotion, he moved forward and hugged Tempestra, then stopped as if afraid that she was going to throw him off or reprimand him. But the young woman, after a moment of surprise, relaxed and hugged him back, knowing that, although her words had comforted Peter, they were just that - words. And they were empty. She would have to leave him sooner or later, whether he wanted her to or not.


	15. Calm Before the Storm

**A/N:** Thanks for sticking to the story despite the long intervals between posts! To make up for the almost month-long interval, I'm posting an extra-long chapter this time. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Suffice to say that I don't own The Chronicles of Narnia or Teen Titans Go!

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**Narnian Forest**

**Telmarine camp**

Tempestra crouched behind a cluster of tall bushes, eyes peering over the top. She knew it was useless to look for her scouts - they were almost impossible to spot - but she was never good at sitting and waiting. She wanted to move around, but even in her semi-camouflage clothes (loose pale green blouse, brown breeches, and faded brown boots) she would be more easily seen if she was constantly shifting. She didn't think many Telmarine guards would be up and wandering around the forest so early in the morning, but she wanted to be careful.

Luckily, she didn't have to wait long. Within a few seconds, Reepicheep and two other mice appeared from behind a tall fern.

"One guard between here and the Telmarine camp, My Lady," Reepicheep announced, standing on his hind-legs to address her. "He doesn't seem to be a very attentive guard, either," he added with a disapproving tone. "He was nodding off at his post."

The vigilante kept herself from smiling at Reepicheep's disdain. Keeping her face carefully blank, she replied, "Well, that's good for us, then. Makes it easier to take him out." After a moment's hesitation, she said, "Thanks for coming at such late notice, by the way. I wanted to do this alone, but I didn't think I could get close enough without getting caught."

Reepicheep nodded in agreement.

"It is an honor to assist you in any way, My Lady," he replied nobly.

Giving him a small smile - it was so hard not to pet him on the head or give him a hug when such a small, cute animal was talking about honor - Tempestra straightened from her position and, with a glance towards the guard, darted behind a nearby tree. With one eye warily on the Telmarine - who was facing away from her - the young woman stealthily made her way towards him while trying not to make a sound. Fortunately, she had little to worry about; just as Reepicheep had observed, the Telmarine guard was inattentive and clearly bored. He leaned against a tree, his chin drooping more and more as he became sleepier.

Within minutes, Tempestra was behind the guard. Pulling out a chemical-laden piece of cloth from her belt, the vigilante wrapped it around her hand. Then, without warning, she clapped it around the Telmarine's mouth and nose. He never even had a chance. He was already half asleep, and in the time it would have taken for him to wake up and fight back, the chemicals that he rapidly inhaled had already worked their magic and knocked him unconscious. The guard slid to the ground and slumped over, his back to the tree. He wouldn't wake up for another two hours, and when he did he would believe that he had simply fallen asleep at his post.

The second the guard slid to the ground, Tempestra and the mice hurried on, careful to keep an eye out for any Telmarine scouts. Luckily, there didn't seem to be any; another minute, and they were on the edge of the Telmarine camp. True to Caspian's reports, the sizable camp was divided into sections. Each section included small tents for officers and the infirmary, fires with ready wood, and areas for fixing weapons, practicing drills, sleeping, keeping the horses, and cooking. In the nearest section, the cooking area was located at the center of the camp where two Telmarines were sitting near five stew-pots hung on separate horizontal sticks over separate fires. The Telmarine cooks seemed to be waiting for the contents of the pots to cook as other Telmarine soldiers went about their own business honing weapons, making arrows, cleaning armor, practicing drills, taking care of horses, and more.

Tempestra observed all of this in a second. When she was done taking mental notes, she crouched back down behind the cover of some bushes and looked at the expectant mice.

"We'll have to move around to each section of the camp," she told the Narnian animals thoughtfully. Plucking out small pill-shaped containers, she handed one to each of the mice and watched as they tied the contains to their backs with string. "The stew-pots are in the center of each section. They're hanging over fires, but they're hung on wooden stakes so it shouldn't be too hard for all of you to get up there. Just drop the pills into the pots; they'll dissolve. If Trufflehunter was right, the herbs inside should make them sick. Any questions?"

The mice looked at each other, then shook their heads.

"We are ready, My Lady," Reepicheep announced, giving a short bow. "When the deed is done we will return to repeat the process at the following sections."

The vigilante nodded in approval.

"Well, good luck then. Try not to be seen."

When the mice scampered off, creating barely a rustle in the plants, Tempestra relaxed. She wasn't worried, really. Reepicheep and his mice had successfully infiltrated Miraz's castle and helped to open the gates without delay. All she had to do was wait...and maybe spy a little. She knew she'd told Peter that she was only going to help the mice with the pills, but she'd left out a small part. The High King was becoming increasingly protective over her, but he didn't have any reason to worry; her method of spying was fairly passive and safe.

Settling herself comfortably in a crosslegged position, the vigilante closed her eyes and placed her palms flat on her knees. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, breathing in a steady rhythm, then plucked a thread of her power from within her. Directing it with her mind, the young woman threaded the thin bit of her power through the nearest breeze, which was lightly blowing past the camp. Then, with a slight tug, she pulled the breeze so that it was blowing through the camp, weaving itself around the various sections until it finally gusted past her spot behind the bushes.

Within seconds the air current was carrying sound past her ears, laden with bits of conversation and random noises: horses neighing, weapons clanging, armor clinking, boots thumping, tents flapping, soldiers talking, and more. Tempestra listened to every conversation that she came across; once she thought she even heard Edmund conversing with Miraz. Most of the conversations among the Telmarines were about the battle ahead - boasts of future conquests, confidence reassurances of victory, and tedious talk of the state of weapons and horses.

"-no way we will lose this battle. If General Glozelle is correct, the Narnians are outnumbered more than five to one."

"And if he is incorrect? Only last week he told us the Narnians were extinct!"

"There cannot be many of them left. My captain told me they hide within their stone-"

The conversation slipped past Tempestra, and she let it go, turning to the next one.

"-told my son to look after my wife and daughter. He wanted to come, poor boy."

"Youth. They do not know the horror of war."

"I only hope the battle goes favorably for us so I might return to my family. My daughter has been sick of late, and without me-"

Something clenched in Tempestra's chest. Too many times, she assumed that the enemy was made of cruel, heartless men willing to kill for the sake of it. Too many times, she forgot that many of them were not only soldiers, but also fathers, husbands, and brothers. They had families to take care of. The vigilante dispersed the conversation and brought the next one forward.

"-that more than one of the council members are unhappy with the king's ascension to the throne."

"Hush! You are speaking of treason."

"Is it not obvious? They follow him now, but if they have the chance to be rid of him during the battle, they will. I overheard General Glozelle speaking to another council member; they believe the king murdered Caspian the Ninth."

"He is not so mad."

"Perhaps he is. I have also heard he plotted to kill Caspian the Tenth once he acquired his son."

"Better not to speak so freely-"

There were other conversations, just as quiet and furtive, about the politics of the Telmarine leaders. Miraz, it seemed, was on a new and shaky power base.

"My Lady? We have finished."

Opening her eyes, Tempestra saw Reepicheep and the two other mice standing in front of her, looking up at her expectantly. The vigilante nodded and got to her feet, banished the breeze with a flick of her power.

"All right, next section."

Over the next hour, the four of them secretly made their way to most of the sections of the camp to drug the stew-pots. Though Reepicheep and the other mice were willing to go through the entire camp, Tempestra had to remind them that if the Telmaines noticed something was wrong with all of the soldiers, they would suspect the food and simply get rid of it and make new, healthy food. If only some of the soldiers were sick, they would be less suspicious of the food. Though the mice accepted her reasoning, the young woman thought they were more eager to get _all_ the Telmarines sick. Fortunately, none of them were caught, and as soon as they were finished they made an uneventful trip back to the How.

* * *

**Narnian Forest**

**Aslan's How**

The two royalties, one Narnian high king and one Telmarine prince, walked down the tunnel towards the War Room, speaking softly. Though Caspian was already dressed in full-out armor and leather, Peter had yet to change out of the leather tunic and breeches he'd worn since the siege on Miraz's castle. Despite the High King's insistence that he would be the one to duel Miraz, Caspian had yet to let the issue go.

"Look," Peter said warily, "if there's ever going to be peace with the Telmarines, you have to be the one who brings it."

Caspian frowned.

"How can I if you won't let me?"

"Not like this. If I don't make it-" Peter paused and turned to look Caspian in the eye, making sure that the prince understood what he was about to say next "-Narnia's future is in your hands."

Caspian met his gaze squarely.

"And what about your own future?" he replied.

Peter smiled wryly, turning away from the prince to look at the inhabitants of the War Room: Trumpkin, who stood next to the chunk of rock that served as a table; Reepicheep, who stood atop the table; and the Bulgy Bear, who hovered in the background nervously. All three Narnians looked at Peter and Caspian as they entered.

"I was thinking about a career in medicine," Peter said remorsefully.

The High King's eyes fell on the armor spread out on the surface of the table. It was an exact replica of the armor he had worn hundreds of years ago during the Golden Age: finely-made chain mail and coif, a red velvet tabard (tunic) on which a gold lion reared, polished plate armor, red leather gloves (the right of which was sewn with small steel plates), arm guards, greaves (leg guards), sabatons (feet guards), and a round helmet which Trumpkin held in his hands. The white dwarf seemed to be in the middle of transferring the weapons and armor from a wooden trunk to the table.

As Peter approached slowly, Trumpkin held out the helmet, and the High King took it slowly, almost thoughtfully and reluctantly, as everyone watched. Behind Caspian, Tempestra strode through the tunnel towards them, then stopped a few feet away from Caspian and leaned against the tunnel wall. Like the others, she watched Peter carefully as he began to converse about the upcoming duel and the need for marshals, or seconds, with the Bulgy Bear and Reepicheep, both of whom obviously wanted to fill the role.

As the High King helped Trumpkin to move his weapons and armor from the trunk to the table, he spoke wearily yet diplomatically, skillfully convincing Reepicheep not to be his second while also saving the noble mouse's pride. Though Trumpkin seemed to have only disdain for the Bulgy Bear, Peter seemed to give the bear's offer some thought, apparently appreciating the Narnian's loyalty and eagerness. For a second, as the youth was about to command Caspian to tell Edmund who he picked for seconds, the High King spotted Tempestra and met her eyes questioningly, as if silently asking her if she wanted to be his third marshal. However, the vigilante shook her head slightly, and the High King accepted the Bulgy Bear instead. He and Trumpkin teased the bear goodnaturedly about his habit of sucking his paw.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Peter asked humorously, a smile on his face as he hefted his silver shield, on which a scarlet lion reared. Yet Caspian's face was somber as he gazed at the shield.

"Are you sure that _you_ are?" he countered quietly, raising his gaze. Half-smiling, Peter looked back at the prince, then seemed to sober as Caspian's words sunk in. His smile faded, andTempestra straightened from her position.

"Thanks for helping out," she remarked, stepping forward and breaking the silence. "The High King probably wants to be alone as he armors himself."

The Narnians took the hint and began filing out of the room. As they passed Peter, they murmured assurances, wishes of good luck, and thanks. Once they were gone, Tempestra looked around at Caspian, who realized her intent and began walking backwards out of the room.

"I'll go get the others and let them know who are your seconds," the prince said hurriedly. As he turned and almost jogged down the tunnel, Tempestra rolled her eyes and turned back to look at Peter, who had placed his shield on the table and was staring at the scarlet lion, his eyes distant.

"You're not still worried about the duel, are you?" Tempestra asked carefully, taking a step towards the High King. Peter smiled ruefully, his eyes still on the shield.

"Of course I am," he responded. He reached out his right hand and brushed off a bit of dust on the surface of the metal. "Wouldn't you be afraid?"

"Yes." The young woman walked over to stand next to Peter, then took his hand. "But you can still have courage at the same time," she reminded him. Peter looked down at their clasped hands, then back up at her, surprised. "You have something worth fighting for, Peter - a whole kingdom's freedom and peace."

The High King nodded.

"I know," he sighed. "I'll keep that in mind during the duel."

Tempestra squeezed his hand gently.

"Or you can just think about beating Miraz down to the ground," she suggested dryly. Peter gave her a small smile.

"That, too."

At the sound of Susan, Lucy, Edmund, and Caspian approaching, the two separated and turned to greet the others. Edmund and Susan had already prepared themselves for the battle; Edmund was dressed in armor that matched Peter's, while Susan wore an ensemble of chain mail, dark brown leather cuirass (defensive armor in the shape of a corset), rich red skirt, belt, and arm brace. The queen's hair was pulled back into a half-braid, and both siblings were armed. As the group came closer, Tempestra saw that Lucy, who wore the same clothes as before, carried a large bundle wrapped in canvas.

"Don't tell me Peter's got even more armor," the vigilante joked as the group stopped in front of the table. Susan, Edmund, and Caspian exchanged knowing smiles as Lucy shook her head and presented the bundle to Tempestra.

"This is for you, actually," the girl told her lightly. "The armorer and fuller recently finished." As Tempestra took it doubtfully and began to unwrap it, the young queen added proudly, "They based it off your old set. They used pictures, and we all described what we could remember."

It was battle attire. Realizing this, Tempestra began laying it out on the surface of the rock next to Peter's as she admired the handiwork. It was similar to Susan's when it came to the chain mail and cuirass (though the vigilante's was black, not dark brown), but past that it was uniquely hers. There were black leather gloves sewn with small metal plates over the fingers, long thin hair pins that suspiciously looked like they could also be used as small knives, and long dark violet billowy pants that mimicked a flowing skirt but allowed the owner to straddle a horse's back comfortably.

"We thought you could use your own belt, arm guards, and boots," Caspian commented as Tempestra gazed at the outfit in awe.

"And the weapons you already have," Edmund added, nodding at the vigilante's rapier and knives. They all watched the young woman reverently finger the chain mail and cloth.

"Do you like it?" Peter asked tentatively, when Tempestra remained silent. The vigilante turned to face the others.

"I feel like it's my birthday," she said finally, smiling gratefully. "Except that I got medieval battle gear instead of the newest nanotech." When they looked at her uncertainly, unsure of whether she was joking (and wondering what nanotech was), the young woman added, "I love it. Thank you, all of you."

"I'll armor you, if you'd like," Susan remarked, stepping forward. "Ed's going to help Peter with his armor, anyway." When Tempestra raised an eyebrow, the queen added, "I did learn a thing or two when I was queen."

"Then by all means, armor me," Tempestra replied graciously, pulling off her arm guards, belt, and weapons, and laying them on the rock table. As Susan began to armor the vigilante and Edmund began to armor Peter as Lucy and Caspian watched, the group began their last-minute conference.

Susan and Lucy, who were packed and ready for the search for Aslan, would ride on Caspian's favorite horse and depart from the secret exit set into the side of the hill. After seeing them off safely, Caspian was to oversee the last work on the grass trap doors, then finish assembling a third of the Narnian army in the main room. Tempestra would temporarily take Susan's place on top of the How and take command of the archers in case Susan didn't return before the battle started, and Peter and Edmund would leave for the duel with Miraz.

"Anything I should know about Miraz before I fight him?" Peter asked Caspian as Edmund fitted his older brother's greaves and sabatons onto his legs and feet. Susan, meanwhile, was pulling back Tempestra's hair with two locks of hair and fastening it with the pins, leaving the rest to flow down her back.

"Miraz is not a chivalrous fighter, or so I've heard," Caspian told Peter warningly. "He will strike you when you are down."

The High King grimaced and pulled on his gauntlets.

"Well, that's good to know," he replied sarcastically. Susan glanced over.

"Actually, it is," she commented. "It means you won't be taken by surprise if he tries fighting dirty."

"You won't fight dirty, will you, Peter?" Lucy asked apprehensively. Peter shrugged.

"If I have to, Luce."

Edmund frowned thoughtfully as he went over Peter's armor to make sure it was on properly.

"You know, there might be something between Miraz and the council members that you should keep in mind," the young king remarked musingly. "When I delivered the challenge, the council members seemed to be pressuring Miraz into accepting the duel."

"I heard the same thing when I was near the camp," Tempestra added. Buckling her belt and knife sheaths around her waist and slinging her rapier and sheath over her shoulder, she continued, "Even the soldiers are suspicious of Miraz. There's a rumor going around that each of the council members want the throne for themselves."

Peter looked at her questioningly as he buckled on his belt and adjusted his sheathed sword.

"So how can I use that to my advantage?" he asked doubtfully. The vigilante shrugged.

"The deal about the duel is only between you and Miraz, right? If you kill Miraz, the other council members might disregard the deal altogether and go through with the attack."

"In which case, we will have to defend ourselves," Caspian clarified.

"I'll try to extend the duel and hold off the Telmarines for as long as I can," Peter assured the prince, but Caspian shook his head.

"When you are dueling Miraz, you will want it to be over as soon as possible," he replied. "Miraz may be twice your age, but he is strong, experienced, and cunning."

Peter gave a dry smile.

"You could say the same thing about me," he told Caspian. Finished being armored, he kept his coif off, left the shield and helmet on top of the rock table, and turned to Tempestra, who was also finished and was now stretching to test the extent that the chain mail allowed her to move.

"Good God, chain mail is heavy," the vigilante complained, rotating her left arm. Peter just grinned.

"At least you're not wearing plate armor," he retorted lightly. "Anyway, you get used to it." The High King turned to Caspian. "One last thing - remember that it's ten counts after the horn. If Cornelius and Trufflehunter's calculations are correct, it should take the Telmarine cavalry exactly that amount of time to reach the ground above the collapsible pillars."

Caspian nodded, then extended his gauntlet-covered hand.

"I will remember," the Telmarine prince told the other youth, his dark eyes serious. "Good luck."

Peter grasped Caspian's hand in a quick handshake, then let go.

"You too. I'll see you out on the battlefield."

That seemed to be the cue for everyone to give last farewells and wishes for good luck. Susan and Lucy hugged Peter, Edmund, and Tempestra while Caspian shook each of their hands. They were neither overly emotional nor afraid as they began to depart; only a feeling of solemnity and kinship hung about the group. Though this was perhaps the last time they would see each other alive, or at least uninjured, they did not treat it so. After Lucy gave one last round of hugs, she, Susan, and Caspian left the War Room and headed for the tunnel to the secret exit. Edmund shook Tempestra's hand, then departed the room to make sure that Glenstorm and the Bulgy Bear were in position at the dueling ground. He and Peter would be leaving the How together, and the young king seemed to know that Tempestra and Peter wanted to say goodbye to each other alone.

The two faced each other, their gazes locked. Thoughts tumbled around each of their minds - fleeting ideas of what to say or do in case it was the last time they ever saw each other. In the end, the two youths moved closer to embrace each other warmly. It was clunky and slightly awkward from the chain mail and plate armor, but it felt comfortable and right at the same time. For a long moment they held each other, his arms circled around her waist, and hers around his back. Her head leaned against his soft red tunic, his chin rested on top of her hair.

When they finally drew back, Tempestra kissed Peter lightly on the cheek.

"Good luck, Peter," she told him firmly, smiling reassuringly. Then, as an afterthought: "Go kick some ass."

Peter chuckled quietly, then kissed Tempestra on the forehead.

"You, too." Without another word, Tempestra departed from the War Room and made her way towards the tunnels and stairs that led to the top of the How.

When she was gone, Peter braced his hands against the surface of the table and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths as he mentally and emotionally prepared himself. It was a routine he did before every battle since the first battle against the White Witch thirteen hundred years ago, and it served him well. He had been in many battles and fights, and more than a couple of personal duels. He was High King Peter the Magnificent, Sir Peter Wolfsbane, Ruler of Narnia during the Golden Age, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Emperor of the Lone Islands. His brothers and sisters were noble queens and kings, officially bestowed rule of Narnia by Aslan himself. His betrothed was the Lightning Lady, a clever adviser and fearsome warrior in her own right. He was fighting to protect all of them, and all Narnians, from a terrible fate. He was fighting for Aslan and for peace.

He was fighting to return home safely with his family.

"Peter? It's time."

Opening his eyes, Peter raised his head to see Edmund standing at the entrance to the War Room, his helmet tucked underneath one arm with a solemn but confident expression. The High King nodded. Pulling up his coif to cover his head and neck, the youth placed his helmet onto his head and raised the visor. Picking up the shield, he fitted it onto his left arm and walked over to Edmund.

"I'm ready."

The two brothers strode down the earthen and stone tunnels of the How, which was almost empty. Every soldier was in position, and the Narnians unable to fight were hidden in a separate chamber. As Edmund and Peter approached the entrance to the How, the sound of hundreds of voices shouting and cheering reached their ears. The voices were strong, encouraging, and confident, clearly supporting their high king. The two Pevensies stopped in front of the entrance, which sloped upwards into the bright light of the midday sun. Pausing, Peter took a deep breath.

Then he and his brother, their expressions steely, walked into the light.

* * *

**A/N:** Next - The Duel!

The scene with Peter picking his marshals is actually part of one of the deleted scenes from the Prince Caspian movie. I decided that only half of the scene was useful, though I did skip the very beginning when Peter is convincing Caspian that he, Peter, should be the one to duel Miraz. I also skipped over the dialogue between Reepicheep, Peter, and the Bulgy Bear in which they talk about who will be Peter's second. The rest, including the part when Susan and Edmund armor Tempestra and Peter, were made up by me.

As a side note, the end bit is best read while listening to the instrumental "The Battle" from the first Chronicles of Narnia movie. That's what I listened to over and over again while I wrote this chapter.


	16. The Duel

**A/N: **Yup, that's right. I'm still here and writing. I know it's been a long time (more than a year?!) since I've posted the last chapter, and that's been because of a combination of writer's block, other stories, and real life. But I'm honestly trying to finish this up, because I'd much rather finish up a long story before I start a new one (or continue one). I hope all my old readers will continue reading, and maybe this will bring in new readers, but either way I was motivated to continue by a Guest reader who read this, posted a couple of reviews, and reminded me that I couldn't drop this. So thank you, whoever you are!

* * *

**Narnian Forest**

**Outside Aslan's How**

Tempestra's heart was thudding. Up on the wall of the How, the sun beat down upon her and the rest of the Narnian army, but she could barely feel it for the tension that thrummed through her veins. Both the Narnians and the Telmarines were cheering and waving their weapons in the air, but the young woman stayed silent as she squinted down at the dueling area, where Miraz and his closest lieutenants were already positioned.

The Narnian shouts grew louder, and Tempestra looked directly below her to see Peter and Edmund emerge from the entrance of the How. She could not see their expressions as they walked towards the dueling area, but she could see that their backs were straight and their heads were held high. Good. They needed to look confident.

As the Pevensie boys approached, Glenstorm bowed his head and turned to face the Telmarines. Miraz, who was sitting in a chair and adjusting his gauntlets, briefly conferred with General Glozelle. Miraz nodded at Glozelle's crossbow, and received a nod in return before he stood, to the roar of the vast Telmarine army. In response, the Narnians cheered as Peter unsheathed his sword from the sheath that Edmund held. Miraz, looking tense, seized his helmet and unsheathed his own sword. He and Peter both stepped forward towards the center of the stone space and began circling each other as both armies quieted. From her position, Tempestra couldn't hear what they were saying, but Miraz and Peter seemed to be exchanging a few words.

After another moment of circling, Peter lowered his visor. A tense moment later, the two opponents ran headlong at each other. Peter, changing directions, jumped onto a nearby stone and leapt down at Miraz. As their swords clashed and they began battering at each other, their armies roared once more.

It did not begin well for Peter. Miraz slammed his heavy shield into Peter's head, knowing the youth's helmet off entirely. When the Telmarine slashed at his head, Peter whipped his head back and his coif slid off. They hacked at each other, trading blow for blow, as the armies looked on. After a minute, it became obvious to Tempestra that their fighting styles were very different. Miraz, though he lacked Peter's youthful endurance, was more animalistic and slightly stronger than Peter. He used his shield as a ram, battering Peter repeatedly with it. Yet even though Peter took a few hits, he was faster than his older opponent. He sliced Miraz on the back and leg, cutting through cloth to the flesh.

Miraz roared in pain. He stumbled to the side, clutching his leg, as Peter watched, staying en garde. His sweat-soaked hair was plastered to his face, but his expression was fierce as he waited for his enemy to recover. They both yelled – in pain or fury, Tempestra couldn't tell – and charged once more at each other. As Tempestra watched Peter roll on the ground and spring back up, she felt a brief moment of hope. Maybe, just maybe, Peter could win soon and end all of this before it could get any worse.

Her hopes were instantly dashed as Miraz used Peter's own shield to dislocate the youth's shoulder, earning a cry of agony from the young king. The Narnians drew in a shocked gasp and Tempestra's heart quickened, but Peter recovered quickly, rolling to avoid Miraz's second attack, then tripping the Telmarine and getting to his feet. He waited as Miraz rose, but it was clear that the fight was taking its toll on Miraz's endurance. Though the older man's face was obscured, he was clearly panting heavily.

From the corner of her eye, Tempestra saw movement: Susan and Caspian on horseback, riding towards the dueling area from somewhere to the right of the How. Lucy was nowhere to be seen. Peter must have seen them too, because he and Miraz exchanged a few words, and a moment later they circled each other and limped back to their own sides for a brief break. Even from her position, Tempestra could see that Peter was holding his arm, his face in a grimace, and Miraz was clutching his leg.

Tempestra realized that she was gritting her teeth. Below, Edmund went to help Peter as the Narnians muttered worriedly. Tempestra glanced over at the Telmarines and saw Miraz rip off his helmet and throw it down angrily before sitting down and letting his general tend to his leg. Obviously, the duel was not going the way he had planned.

Caspian and Susan joined Edmund and Peter. They conferred for a moment before Peter glanced up at Tempestra then Susan. He seemed to be telling Susan to station herself on the wall, because Susan gave him a quick hug – making Peter grimace - before running towards the How's entrance. Tempestra saw Edmund glance backwards at the Narnians and say something to Peter. In response, Peter turned towards his army and raised his sword, pasting a courageous smile on his face and eliciting cheers from the Narnians.

Tempestra was not fooled. She knew Peter was in considerable agony from his dislocated shoulder. The Narnians could see it too, but as long as Peter put on a brave face and downplayed his pain, they would continue to believe him. The last thing that they needed was to lose confidence in him. They fed off of his strength, he fed off of their support.

"Tempestra?" Turning, the young woman saw Susan, her face grim. The queen unshouldered her bow and gave her a nod. "I'll take it from here." Tempestra wanted to ask her about Peter, but she knew Susan wouldn't give any hint of Peter's condition in front of the Narnians. Instead, she just nodded – jaw still clenched – and ran down to join the others at the dueling area. By the time she reached them, Peter was already walking back to face Miraz.

"How is he?" Tempestra murmured to Edmund, watching Miraz shove aside the helmet that his general offered. Peter was also going in without his helmet. They held their naked swords at the ready as they approached each other warily. They were both tired.

Edmund kept his eyes on his brother as he replied, "He tried telling me his last words."

Tempestra felt her chest constrict. "And?"

"And," Edmund continued as Peter and Miraz walked forward and renewed the fight, "I told him to save it for later."

Tempestra grinned at this, but her smile quickly disappeared as Miraz shoved Peter against one of the stones. When Peter fell to the ground, the Telmarine didn't wait for him to get up again; he hacked at the youth. Still on the ground, Peter deflected his blows and swung his legs around to balance his opponent, who fell in a heap. The two rose again and continued to battle, their movements slower and clumsier than before but more desperate. Theoretically, Peter had the advantage because his endurance was better than Miraz's. If he could keep it together and wait for Miraz to tire himself out, he could deliver a final blow.

A few moments later, Miraz was attacking a weaponless Peter. The young king used his armguards to deflect Miraz's slashes, delivered a backhand blow, then solidly punched Miraz on his wounded leg. The Telmarine roared in pain. He clutched his leg and stumbled backwards, and Tempestra heard him plead for mercy. Fists half-raised, Peter hesitated.

"Now's not the time for chivalry, Peter!" Edmund yelled besides Tempestra. Everyone was tense as Miraz held up a hand to hold Peter off. As Tempestra watched, eyes narrowed, Peter dropped his hands in disgust and began to walk away.

In a flash, Miraz seized his sword from the ground and leapt to his feet.

"PETER!" The name burst from Tempestra's lips before she realized she'd shouted it. At her cry, Peter lunged to the side to avoid Miraz's attack. Turning, he dodged Miraz's sword thrust, grabbed the sword by the blade, and wrested it way from Miraz. In one smooth movement, he swung the weapon around and stabbed Miraz in the arm through a gap in his armor.

There was a collective sharp inhale of shock. Miraz gasped, his eyes wide. Peter yanked the sword out and Miraz fell to his knees in front of him, clutching his arm where Peter had stabbed him. As everyone looked on, Peter drew back the sword, readying himself to behead his opponent. When the young king paused, Miraz glared up at him.

"What's the matter, boy?" Tempestra heard him say. "Too cowardly to take a life?"

Peter was facing away from the Narnians, but Tempestra heard the disgust in his voice as he lowered his sword and replied, "It's not mine to take."

The victor turned and resolutely extended the weapon, hilt first, to Prince Caspian. It was clearly an offer. Everyone stood in tense silence as Caspian, stone-faced, took the sword from Peter and raised it. Tempestra saw him shaking as he drew it back. This was what he had been waiting for. Years of deception, and only days of pent-up fury.

Miraz murmured something to the youth and bowed his head.

Caspian gave a yell, and the sword cleaved through the air. But it did not slice through flesh. Instead, it slammed into a patch of grass in front of Miraz, who looked up in disbelief. Caspian murmured something back to Miraz. Next to Tempestra, Peter let out a long exhale of relief, and Tempestra did the same. She hadn't even realized she'd been holding her breath. But Caspian had done what she'd hoped and scarcely believed – he had spared Miraz's life.

The Telmarines looked as disbelieving as Tempestra felt. Caspian held their gazes for a moment, then turned and walked back to the Narnians, who gave a deafening roar of triumph. Tempestra, smiling broadly, clapped Caspian on the back as she, Edmund, Peter, and Glenstorm crowded around him, smiling in approval. Caspian had redeemed himself, and best of all, they had won. As Tempestra relaxed, a small part of her smugly reflected that they hadn't needed Aslan's help after all. It was over. It was all over. They'd won, and without any bloodshed.

But they celebrated too soon. Tempestra was turning away from the dueling area when something caught her eye. After Caspian had walked away, the Telmarine second-in-command had walked forward and grabbed Miraz, slinging the king's arm around his shoulders to support him as he stumbled back to the other Telmarines. But suddenly, there was a sharp gasp, and everything suddenly went horribly wrong.

Tempestra whirled around. Miraz was lying face-first on the ground, and one of Susan's arrows was buried in his back. As she stared at his dead body, she distantly heard the Telmarine second-in-command yell, "Treachery! They shot him! They murdered out king!" The Narnians stared in confusion, but the Telmarines were already riding back to their army, blowing horns and waving their banners to signal the troops. The battle hadn't been averted; it was back on course.

"That son of a bitch."

Tempestra knew Susan hadn't shot the arrow; from one glance, she could see that the queen looked just as confused as everyone else. No, the Telmarines were obviously lying. The Telmarine who had grabbed Miraz must have had one of Susan's arrows already, and he must have killed his own king. They should have seen it coming – _she_ should have seen it coming. Just because she was in Narnia and not Earth didn't mean that they were exempt from political turmoil, duplicity, and literal back-stabbing. The Telmarines, including Miraz, had never meant for the deal to last, and they had never intended to surrender. Clearly, they had only participated in the duel out of pride and an easy chance to kill Peter.

She had been naïve – no, stupid - to think that the Telmarines would keep their word and the Narnians could win like that so easily. She had been clinging to Earth's concepts of justice and fairness. Here, in Narnia, there was none. No one's promises could be held to the law because there was no law. There was no police to keep violence in check, and there were no courts to make sure justice reigned supreme. In Narnia, it was kill or be killed. Injustice could thrive here amongst anarchy and violence - and it would have to be met in kind. She knew that now: when enemies could not be trusted to keep their word, and there was no chance of negotiation or redemption, they would have to be put down.

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**A/N: **The real battle is up next! Expect lots of fighting!


	17. The Battle (Part 1)

**A/N:** This is a really long chapter, but I couldn't find a good place to cut it off and start the new chapter. Everything comes to a head here! Also, if you think you know this battle well, think again - I added bits to it.

Enjoy, and read and review!

* * *

Fury had fast replaced Tempestra's dismay at the sudden turn of events. As she watched the Telmarine leaders ride back to their army, yelling commands and war cries, she distantly heard Peter ordering the archers to ready themselves. At a sharp shout from Caspian, however, she jolted out of her angry thoughts.

"Peter!"

The high king whirled around at the prince's cry, and saw the source of the warning: an advancing Telmarine, who had stayed behind, no doubt to try to kill Peter while he was still vulnerable without the protection of the Narnian army. When the armored soldier unsheathed his sword and lunged forward at Peter with a bellow, the youth parried his blow, sliced his torso, then deftly beheaded him. Without pausing, he turned to Caspian - who had mounted a horse - and the Bulgy Bear.

"Go!" he ordered, pointing his sword. He didn't have to say it twice. Caspian and the Bulgy Bear galloped back to the How, though the prince paused in front of the entrance to wait for his signal. Peter, Edmund, and Tempestra sprinted to the front of the dueling area, squinting across the field at the roaring Telmarine army.

Even from her position, Tempestra could see that the Telmarines were up to something. In the distance, someone was waving a black flag, followed by some kind of movement at the five wooden trebuchets that the army had rolled onto the battlefield. Tempestra had learned about the physics of trebuchets in her high school science class, and had even constructed a miniature working one. In person, however, a battle trebuchet was a much more daunting thing. The Telmarines seemed to be loading giant round stones into the machines. Could they actually be strong enough to lob the boulders all the way to the How?

Her musings were answered a second later when three of the trebuchets volleyed two rocks towards the Narnians. Tempestra watched, stunned, as the stones flew through the air towards them. A moment later, they slammed into the ground, narrowly missing the Narnian army. The Telmarines must have adjusted the trebuchets however, because the next two boulders smashed into the side of the Narnian army outside of the How. Tempestra flinched at the thud of each rock, which shook the ground. To the army's credit, they did not scatter in panic until the massive stones were nearly upon them. They remained steady and held their positions.

Peter, Edmund, and Tempestra stood rooted to the spot, despite the rain of boulders and flying dirt. They stared across the distance at the Telmarine army, which abruptly unleashed its cavalry. The thick line of horse-riding soldiers surged forward, spurred on by General Glozelle, who stayed safely behind. The cavalry was impressively swift, and they thundered towards the Narnians, swords pointed forward. With the trebuchet stones flying high above in the air, and the line of fierce soldiers looming towards her, Tempestra felt her heart pounding harder and faster. Anticipation and adrenaline thrummed through her veins, sharpening her senses.

Behind her, she distantly heard Susan bellow, "Archers to the ready!" and she knew that the archers up on the How were drawing back their arrows. When Peter had judged that the cavalry had advanced far enough, he wheeled around to signal Caspian and Glenstorm, who turned and galloped through the entrance of the How. A moment after the two disappeared into the How, a Narnian horn rang through the air, and Peter began to count aloud.

"One…two…three…"

The line of cavalry had spread out now into one triangular mass of horses and pointed blades. They were much closer now, and Tempestra could see the snarling faces that were permanently etched onto their steel masks. The three of them braced themselves as the riders bore down upon them, sunlight lancing off their armor. It was an intimidating sight.

"Eight…nine…Get ready!"

Without warning, the ground collapsed in front of the cavalry, exposing the tunnels below. The result was utter confusion. The front line of soldiers tumbled into the uncovered pit, causing the horses and their riders to fall in disarray. Horses neighed in panic, their legs crippled, and men cried out as they fell and were trampled by their own steeds. The riders on the edge of the pit were unable to stop in time; they plunged in headfirst. Those who managed to stay on the unbroken ground found themselves shoved in by the riders behind them as their momentum propelled them forwards.

"NOW!" Susan bellowed, and the archers released their arrows, which whistled through the air before raining down upon the cavalry.

Chaos reigned over the group. The arrows struck down the soldiers and horses attempting to climb out of the pit, causing widespread panic. The arrows descended and indiscriminately felled both horses and riders. Once, Tempestra might have felt some kind of remorse or guilt for watching the soldiers get killed without a chance to fight back, but with the anger still coursing through her veins and the Telmarines' betrayal still fresh in her mind, she couldn't find it in her to care.

To her left, Edmund leapt onto a fallen stone, jumped onto the back of a Telmarine horse, and rode forward with his crossbow ready. Tempestra unsheathed her rapier as to her right, Peter bellowed, "CHARGE!" and led the Narnian attack.

The Narnian army at the front of the How rushed forward to attack the cavalry from the front, as Caspian and Glenstorm led the underground Narnians through hidden trap doors in the grass. They circled around in a pincer movement to strike the cavalry from the back and sides. The Telmarines were trapped, with nowhere to escape.

Tempestra could taste triumph. She sprinted forward with the rest of the Narnians, weapon at the ready as they plowed into the cavalry on the ground. Her first target clambered to his feet and ran at her with a roar. He chopped down at her, attempting to split her at the shoulder, but Tempestra nimbly dodged his attack and thrust her rapier through a gap in his chain mail beneath his left arm. As he howled in pain, the young woman yanked her weapon free and kicked him back into the pit. As soon as he fell backwards, she looked for her next adversary.

A few feet away, a Telmarine soldier was lunging at Ferrah, who was preoccupied with his own enemy. Tempestra pointed her rapier at the soldier, and a crackling bolt of lightning crawled down the blade and lanced through the air. It struck the soldier squarely between the shoulders, and he fell forwards where he lay on the ground, unmoving. A few more lightning bolt shots at other Telmarines made Tempestra realize that although the metal Telmarine armor protected them from some weapon attacks, it only amplified the devastation of her lightning. She took full advantage of this knowledge.

The young woman relished the opportunity to finally vent her anger as she fought the Telmarine soldiers, knocking them down swiftly and surely before turning to her next opponent. Her fighting was sure and deft as she hacked, stabbed, and shot lightning, but her movements were agile in comparison to the soldiers. They were heavy and slow, burdened by large swords and cumbersome shields that were effective against big weapons but ineffective against Tempestra's quick attacks. She danced around them, using her lightness and swiftness to her advantage. She was breathing hard, but she felt full of energy. Around them, boulders continued to crash into the ground in a constant heavy barrage.

Glances around her told her that the other Narnians were making quick work of the rest of the cavalry. The soldiers fought with discipline, but there was something off about them. For every five soldiers that Tempestra fought, one of them moved a little weakly, as if he was suffering from some hidden pain. It seemed that the herbs she and Reepicheep had distributed were working. Between that and the collapsing ground, arrows, and pincer attack, the cavalry was decimated. Perhaps they stood a chance of winning after all.

Then she saw the columns of Telmarine foot soldiers begin marching forward. From the How, gryphons carrying dwarves equipped with bows flew towards the Telmarines, firing arrows at the ground troops. In retaliation, the Telmarines used a wooden machine to shoot arrows into the sky. The machine, which fired clusters of thick arrows simultaneously, took a heavy toll on the gryphons and the dwarves. They plowed into the ground or into the troops.

Tempestra watched this, enraged but helpless. The machine was too far for her to destroy from her position. She saw Peter twenty feet away; he looked up, dismayed, at Susan on the wall of the How. Tempestra saw him mouth the word "Lucy", then turn to look desperately at the advancing lines of Telmarines. The soldiers held their shields up for protection as they steadily moved forward – an indestructible wall. They would crush the Narnians.

Peter realized the same thing. "Back to the How!" he called out, pitching his voice to carry over the fighting. He knew when they had to retreat. He had learned from his previous mistake, and was determined not to make it again.

The Telmarines were still steadily marching forward towards the Narnians, who disentangled themselves from the soldiers and charged back to the How. Seeing this, Tempestra knocked out yet another soldier she was fighting, but held her ground and threw herself at another.

"Go!" she yelled at the others, who wavered when they saw her continue to fight. "I'll keep them off!"

The young woman ducked to avoid her opponent's swing, then rolled on the ground. Rising to her knees behind him, she slashed at the back of his knees, crippling him. Then she sprung to her feet and turned to face the other Telmarines. There was a momentary lull in the fighting around her; she took advantage of it. After sheathing her rapier, Tempestra took a deep breath and let her mind dive inwards, to the core of herself – the core of her powers. She had not done this in such a long time, but it was a familiar place to her. Taking another deep breath, she drew her power up through her body. As she raised her arms, the power flowed through them and spilled from her hands in waves of crackling energy. They spread down to meet the ground, and up to extend above their heads. A solid wall of electricity sprang from her fingers to separate the Telmarine soldiers from the retreating Narnian army.

Even from behind their masks, the Telmarine soldiers looked terrified. They had never seen displays of magic, never mind a wall of energy that shocked whoever came into contact with it. They came to a halt in front of the barrier and stood behind it, uncertain. The Narnians, grateful for the respite, scrambled towards the How.

Then the boulders descended. Without warning, the massive stones flew over Tempestra's wall and struck the slabs of rock forming the entrance to the How. The slabs collapsed, and with it, the entire entrance to the How. The Narnians' escape was cut off.

Tempestra was blind to this predicament, although she heard the cries of the Narnians who were crushed beneath the onslaught of stones. Instead, the young woman focused on maintaining the wall of energy. Then one boulder smashed into the barrier. And another. Arms still raised, Tempestra gritted her teeth until her jaw ached. The impact of the boulders shuddered through her body, jolting her as if she were one with the wall. When the third giant stone struck the wall, the energy field shattered. The backlash made Tempestra stumble backwards. She felt like someone had broken her body.

Seeing that their escape was blocked, the Narnians converged behind Tempestra as the lines of Telmarine ground soldiers began advancing once more. Peter, Caspian, Edmund, and Susan drew level with Tempestra, who was breathing hard. Peter touched her shoulder worriedly.

"Tempestra. Are you-?"

"Get everyone behind me," Tempestra ordered sharply. She didn't even look at him. "Now."

They didn't waste any time. The leaders called out their warnings, realizing what she was about to do. The Narnians backed up hastily. The Telmarines continued to march forward, an arrow's shot away from them, as the young woman walked forward to the front of the dueling area. She stood there by herself, ringed by ten Telmarine columns. Surrounded like that, she looked small and alone. It took all of Peter's willpower not to run out to protect her as the Telmarines closed in on her.

Tempestra did not heed them as she pushed her sleeves back and planted her feet firmly on the ground. Narrowing her eyes in concentration, the young woman drew every bit of her power up through her body once more. Sparks crackled behind her eyes as she raised her arms. She channeled the power through her arms, building it up in her hands, intensifying the energy until the pressure was unbearable - then slammed her palms together.

Energy exploded from her hands in one giant shockwave, surging forward and crashing into the Telmarine army. The soldiers were taken completely by surprise. The wave of electricity overwhelmed the ten columns of soldiers, knocking out the front six rows and leaving two more rows disoriented. They barely stood, wavering, behind the rows of men who had keeled over. Both sides, Telmarine and Narnian, stared in awe and fear at the swathe of unconscious soldiers littering the ground.

Tempestra's legs collapsed. In an instant Peter was at her side, slinging her arm over his shoulders and helping her to her feet. Together, they stumbled backwards behind a line of Narnians who had formed while Tempestra had been busy. Each Narnian in the line was equipped with a stolen Telmarine shield. Behind the shield troops, the remaining archers waited with arrows strung. The Narnians were regrouping in the back.

The Telmarines recovered surprisingly quickly from Tempestra's attack. Soon they had reassembled and, after a second of uncertainty, they continued to march forward, stepping upon the bodies of their own soldiers as they advanced.

"NOW!"

Caspian's voice rang out. At his signal, the Narnian shield troops turned their shields around so that the backs of the shields – which had been polished until they shone – were facing the Telmarines. The burnished surfaces reflected the sun's rays, which lanced into the unprotected eyes of the Telmarines. The blinded soldiers immediately halted. They cried out in surprise and pain, instinctively throwing up their hands to shield their eyes.

"FIRE!" Susan bellowed. The Narnian archers lifted their bows and fired over the heads of the shield troops, taking advantage of the Telmarines' disorientation to launch a volley of arrows which struck the unprepared soldiers without warning.

But they did not scatter, as the Narnians had expected. Instead, the Telmarines recovered speedily. Fresh soldiers from the back moved forward to replace the wounded soldiers. These new soldiers were healthy and had not seen as much fighting as the front lines. They were outfitted with shields, which they used to create a wall in front and above them to deflect stray arrows. Like a living machine, they marched forward unrelentlessly. Even Susan's archers could not halt them.

The Narnians fell back.

Peter, who had lowered Tempestra back to the ground, shook her gently. The young woman's eyes were closed, and she breathed heavily.

"Tempestra? Are you all right?"

Tempestra heard Peter's voice as if from a distance. She could hear her heart thundering in her ears, feel the grass beneath her knees, and taste the tang of iron in her mouth. When she opened her eyes and spat onto the ground, she saw blood on the beaten earth. She had bitten the inside of her mouth. Lifting her gaze, she saw Peter and Edmund staring at her worriedly, ignoring the chaos behind them. When Peter spotted the blood she had spat out, he grew pale.

"I'm fine," Tempestra said detachedly, getting to her feet with his help. "Just give me a second."

When she was upright once more, she took stock of herself and her surroundings. She had power left over, but she didn't have it in her to do another massive assault like that again. Besides the ache in her jaw from clenching her teeth, her body was too numb to feel any pain, even though she surely must have sustained wounds. She still had energy, but she was also running heavily on adrenaline. She needed her second wind if she was to keep going. She observed all of this distantly.

What was worse, the fight was not going well for the Narnians. Despite the Narnian strategic defenses, the Telmarines still heavily outnumbered them and continued to advance. The Narnians needed to take a stand, or be crushed against the How and scattered into the forest. If that happened, the Telmarines would burn down the forest and pick them off one by one. If the Narnians tried to run, they would not get far. She could see it as if it had already happened.

For the first time, Tempestra seriously considered her death. Here, on a strange battlefield in a strange world. Fighting for a kingdom that she did not know, with a people that were not her own.

_If I die here, no one on Earth will know._

She suddenly knew how Peter had felt before the duel. That hopelessness. That fear. That shadow of death that lurked nearby - waiting. She could see it in her mind's eye, as if she looked upon it all from a distance.

Peter was shaking her again, his voice urgent.

"Tempestra? Tempestra!"

Tempestra could see the battle over his shoulder. Despite the overwhelming odds, a few Narnians had turned and renewed their assault on the Telmarine ground troops. Without hesitation, they threw themselves at the wall of Telmarines, who had raised their shields to form a protective wall and ceiling. Those few Narnians were vastly outnumbered and faced what seemed like an infinite number of enemies, but they still continued to fight. They knew they had no hope of surviving, yet they courageously fought on.

As Tempestra watched them, she felt a dreading feeling of déjà vu. But this time, she was not the one outside the castle gate. She was on the other side.

_We are the fighters trapped behind the gate_, she realized._ We are the ones who have no chance of survival. We must do what they once did: be brave in the face of destruction._

She was suddenly hypersensitive and acutely aware of everything around her. Her focus - which had been detached a moment before – seemed to zoom in at that second.

Crashes. Cries.

The smell of blood. Of sweat.

The bright sun. The hot rays.

Aching. Stinging.

"_Julia_."

Tempestra finally met Peter's gaze, and his blue eyes were all she could see. His eyes were anxious beneath his sweat-soaked hair plastered across his forehead. They did not say anything, but Peter recognized the sudden resolve that lit Tempestra's eyes. He squeezed her shoulders reassuringly.

Together, they joined Caspian, Edmund, and Susan, who were as tired as Tempestra was, but who looked as determined as she felt. Edmund tossed aside his crossbow and unsheathed his sword as Susan notched an arrow to her bow, and Tempestra drew her rapier from its sheath on her back. Wordlessly, they looked at each other, then resolutely broke into a run. Leading the Narnian army, they charged towards the Telmarines and inevitable defeat.


	18. Note to readers

**A/N: **Hello all!

**Bad news:** As you can see, I haven't updated this fic in a while.

**Good news:** It's because I've been rewriting each chapter! If you go back to the beginning of the story, you'll see that the fic is slightly different; the writing is improved, but the story is the same. It's been years since I started on this, and looking back on it, I decided that it needed to be edited. If I rewrite/edit a chapter, I'll note it at the top of the page. I plan to edit most of the chapters so far.

**Even better news:** Not only have I been rewriting this story and working on the last few chapters, but I've also been writing short drabbles for the sequel! It's called _The Golden_ and you can find it through my profile. It's a series of short drabbles about what happens during the Golden Age and afterwards. There's a variety of fun, serious, sad, and lovely moments. Check it out in the meantime!

Thanks for being patient, everyone!


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